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THE HONEYMOON 



BY ARNOLD BENNETT 



Novels 

THE OLD WIVES' TALE 

HELEN WITH THE HIGH HAND 

THE MATADOR OF THE FIVE TOWNS 

THE BOOK OF CARLOTTA 

BURIED ALIVE 

A GREAT MAN 

LEONORA 

WHOM GOD HATH JOINED 

A MAN FROM THE NORTH 

ANNA OF THE FIVE TOWNS 

THE GLIMPSE 

Pocket Philosophies 

HOW TO LIVE ON 24 HOURS A DAY 
THE HUMAN MACHINE 
LITERARY TASTE 
MENTAL EFFICIENCY 

Plays 

CUPID AND COMMONSENSE : A Play 
WHAT THE PUBLIC WANTS: A Play 
POLITE FARCES; Three Plays 
MILESTONES: A Play 
THE HONEYMOON: A Play 

Miscellaneous 

THE TRUTH ABOUT AN AUTHOR 
THE FEAST OF ST. FRIEND 



GEORGE H. DORAN COMPANY 

NEW YORK 



THE HONEYMOON 



A COMEDY IN THREE ACTS 



BY 



ARNOLD BENNETT 

Author of "The Old Wives' Tale," "Polite Farces," 
" How to Live on Twenty-four Hours a Day " 



GEORGE H. DORAN COMPANY 

PUBLISHERS NEW YORK 






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cyO 



Copyright, 1910, by 
S. S. McCLURE COMPANY 



Copyright, 1912, by 
GEORGE H. DORAN COMPANY 






CHARACTERS IN THE PLAY 

Cedric Haslam 

Charles Haslam 

Mr. Reach Haslam 

The Bishop of Colchester 

Mr. Frampington 

CuTHBERT 

Gaston 

Flora Lloyd 

Mrs. Reach Haslam 



J 

NOTES ON CHARACTERS IN ACT I 

Flora Lloyd. Beautiful. Elegant. Charming. All 
in the highest degree possible. The whole play 
turns on these qualities in her. 

Cedric Haslam. Renowned aviator. The taciturn 
inventive Englishman. Very self-controlled, but 
capable of passionate moments. Obstinate, with 
enormous force of character. His movements, 
gestures, and speech have a certain air of slow 
indolence, but are at the same time marked by that 
masculine harshness and brusqueness which would 
specially appeal to a woman like Flora. No one 
could guess from his demeanour that he is famous. 

Charles Haslam. Boyish. Impulsive. Very self- 
centred. But very agreeable. 

Mrs. Reach Haslam. Majestic. Richly dressed. 
The foremost woman-novelist in England and 
America. Her name a household word. No sense 
of humour. But she is very, very far from being a 
fool, and the part is not a low-comedy part. This 
play shows the least sympathetic side of her. 

Mr. Reach Haslam. The husband of a celebrity. 
Strong sense of sardonic humour, which has very 
little outlet. Always exceedingly polite and even 
deferential to his wife, yet preserving his own 
dignity. A prim, dry, precise man. 

Gaston. There are scores of Gastons in the hotels 
and restaurants of the West End. He does not 
differ from the type. 



THE HONEYMOON 



ACT I 

Scene. — A sitting-room in the only hotel at a 
small seaside resort in Essex. Old-fashioned 
Victorian furnitiwe, producing a picturesque 
general effect. Some modern touch, such as a 
framed coloured advertisement of pneumatic 
tyres. Door, r., leading to hall, principal en- 
trance, and kitchen. Door, l., leading 
through a porch to the garden. A large win- 
dow, divided into three portions by stonework, 
at the back: the panes are small; one of these 
portions is open, the others are closed. 
Through the window can be seen a view of the 
garden, and the sea in the distance. The fire- 
place is not seen. Cedric and Flora are seated 
at either side of a tea-table. 

Time. — Afternoon in June. Sunshine. 

Flora. Another cup? [Cedric, looking at her, 
makes no reply. ^ Cedric! Another cup? [with a 
touch of very good-humoured impatience. Ced- 
ric rises, goes round the table to her, takes hold of 
her, and kisses her.l^ 

7 



8 THE HONEYiV:^OGN 

Cedric [standing over, her, she looking up at 
hi7n\. I've been wanting to do that for about 
thirty solid minutes. 

Flora. Then why didn't you, my poor boy? 
[Cedric gives a gesture to show that he doesn't 
know why^ . . . Instead of keeping us both 
waiting like that! [Reflective.^ And yet it's 
barely three hours since you kissed me in the ves- 
try! 

Cedric. Vestry be dashed ! And here's another 
thing I've been wanting to do [he carefully hisses 
her ear^. 

Flora. My ear ! 

Cedric. Precisely, your ear ! Strange ! . . . 
And I can tell you something even stranger. Shall 
I? [She nods.Jl When I'm standing over you I 
feel as if I should like to kill you I Yes, really, 
Fluff! It takes me all of a sudden! You know 
— when you lean out of a high balcony and you 
feel you must jump — well, it's that sort of a feel- 
ing. 

Flora. What particular kind of homicide .^^ 

Cedric, Oh ! [at a loss~\ a kind of a fierce crush- 
ing. [She smiles. ~\ You think it's justifiable? 

Flora. I don't mind so long as I know my risks. 

Cedric [after staring at her with a convinced 
air^ . We shall get on together all right ! 

Flora. Yes, I think we're doing rather well so 
far, considering [turning the ring on his finger^. 

Cedric. Considering what? 



u 



ACT I 9 



Flora. Considering how nervous we both are, 
naturally \^drops his Jiand^. 

Cedric [^moving away. Half to himself^. Yes, 
and we shall keep getting more nervous ! 

Flora [resuming exactly the same matter-of-fact 
tone as when she first put the question^. Another 
cup? 

Cedric [similar tone~\. How many have I had? 

Flora. I don't know, dear. 

Cedric, I've had enough, then. 

Flora. Well, about our programme. Suppose 
we settle it a bit. 

Cedric, Yes, let's. [Sits down.^ 

Flora, I do think it was a lovely idea to start 
off without any programme at all! Heaven itself 
couldn't say where we shan't be this time next week ! 

Cedric. Well, subject to your approval, I don't 
mind informing heaven that anyhow we shan't be 
here. 

Flora. Tired of this place — already ? 

Cedric, On the contrary ! But it's too small 
to hold a couple that have just walked out of a 
vestry. One hotel, one flagstaff, one boat, one sea. 
No pier, no tea-shop, no concert, and very prob- 
ably no moon. 

Flora, Extraordinary how even three hours of 
married life will change a man 1 You always used 
to be rather keen on quietness, solitude, old flannel 
suits, and so on. 

Cedric, Now look here, Fluff! This honey- 



10 THE HONEYMOON 

moon programme is important. Er — [^hesitates^. 

Flora [^nods^. Let's talk as man to man. 

Cedric. The fact is I've always had a very dis- 
tinct theory about honeymoons. Far from the 
madding crowd is a mistake on a honeymoon. 
Solitude ! Wherever you are, if you're 
on a honeymoon, you'll get quite as much solitude 
as is good for you every twenty-four hours. Con- 
stant change and distraction — that's what wants 
arranging for. Solitude will arrange itself. 

Flora. I didn't expect this from you, dear f 

Cedric {hastily, apologetic^. Simply a theory! 
I've had no practical experience, and I'm perfectly 
ready to sit at your feet in the matter. Honestly, 
I don't care a straw. I may be wrong, and if 
you 

Flora {solemrdy~\. You aren't wrong! You're 
quite fearfully right ! 

Cedric [after staring at her with a convinced 
air^. We shall get on together — that's a bed- 
rock certainty ! Now this place ought to be ex- 
cellent for a beginning, but I should imagine that 
about a couple of days of it would do us. 

Flora. I never suspected — no, really, I never 
did suspect — that any man could have as much 
common-sense, beforehand, as you have, Cedric. 
Not to speak of courage ! 

Cedric. Cheek, you mean. But then, of course. 
I am supposed to have a bit of nerve. Well, that's 
settled. We are to travel, then. 



ACT I 11 

Flora, The point is, where? 

Cedr'ic. Where would you like? 

Flora [radiantly^. ^7i?/where. 

Cedric. What about Paris? 

Flora. Oh, not Paris. 

Cedr'ic. Why not? 

Flora. We should be simply mobbed. My 
dearest boy, have you ever heard speak of the sim- 
plicity of genius? 

Cedric. I seem to have read about it somewhere, 
perhaps in the ladies' papers. 

Flora. Well, you won't understand it, because 
you've got it — acutely. 

Cedric. And here all these years I've been tak- 
ing myself for rather a crafty person ! 

Flora. Do you know how many times I've 
counted your portrait in the weeklies this year? 
One hundred and forty-six ! And that's not 
reckoning pictures where your aeroplane's so 
high up that you only look like a fly in a mouse- 
trap. 

Cedric. In my simple mind I'd always thought 
that the surest way never to be recognised in the 
street was to have your portrait in the papers. 

Flora. And then there's your likeness to your 
mother! A hundred and fifty-one thousand cop- 
ies of your dear mother's last novel sold up to yes- 
terday — so I saw in the " Telegraph." And then 
her new novel out to-day ! 

Cedric. I'm not suggesting that we should 



13 THE HONEYMOON 

camp out in Piccadilly for our honeymoon, my 
dove and my love ; I said Paris. 

Flora. All London will be in Paris. 

Cedric. What — next week? 

Flora, Every week. Excuse me asking a 
pointed question, dearest, but have you ever been 
to Paris — I mean, since the flood? 

Cedric. Yes. My knowledge of the unwieldy 
goods department of the big railway stations is 
probably matchless. 

Flora. Well, if you'd stepped outside the sta- 
tions you'd know that Paris is now exclusively in- 
habited by nice respectable people from London and 
nice respectable people from Arizona; and when 
they aren't cricking their necks to look at aero- 
planes, they're Improving their minds with your 
dear mother's latest novel. 

Cedric [mock serious^. Will you believe me — 
I'd no notion of this at all ! 

Flora. I tell you what — I wouldn't mind going 
to Paris under an assumed name. 

Cedric, Oh, no ! 

Flora. Why not? It would be amusing. 

Cedric. I don't see myself travelling under a 
false name. I suppose I am too EngHsh. 

Flora. Well, I don't see myself In a Paris hotel 
as the bride of the most celebrated English aviator, 
and the daughter-in-law of the most celebrated 
English lady -novelist. I do not ! [ With a char- 



ACT I 13 

acteristic gesture.^ Mobbed isn't the word for 
what we should be. 

Cedric [gazing at her~\ , You must have noticed 
that I'm not what you'd call gushing. I've known 
myself go for a month without using a single su- 
perlative ; but really, my most dear girl, my Fluffi- 
est, when you strike an attitude like that, you're 
more marvellously and ineffably adorable than ever. 
Your beauty, your charm, your enormous slap-up- 
ness — [changing his tone^ — Well, ecstasy is not 
my line ... I only said Paris because the 
mater asked me if I thought we should be going 
there, and I told her it was possible. 

Flora. Will she be there.? 

Cedric, No, no ! Only, if we should happen to 
go there, she wanted me to count the panes of 
glass in a lamp-post on the Alexander III. bridge. 
One of her realistic details, you know. I expect 
she's got her hero staring absently up at that lamp- 
post — after an indiscreet evening. . . . She 
may be depending on me. 

Flora, But surely that isn't a reason why we 
should go to Paris ! Your dear mother might have 
wanted to know the number of ribs in the umbrella 
of the King of Siam — should we have had to book 
to Bangkok? 

Cedric, I was only 

Flora, Husband, I must tell you something 
about 3^our mother. I've kept it a secret from 



14! THE HONEYMOON 

you. Do you know what made her give up her 
terrific scheme of our being married in the cathedral 
by the Bishop, surrounded by the press of Europe ? 

Cedric, I thought our angel-tongues persuaded 
her out of it. 

Flora. Not at all. A threat did it. I dropped 
in on her one day for a little private chat while 
you were at Blackpool. She was just going to 
arrange with the Bishop. I told her confidentially 
— but of course nicely — that if she wouldn't 
agree to us being married by a curate at Colchester, 
with nobody but her and your father and Charlie 
present, and nothing whatever in the papers for at 
least a fortnight, then I should insist on being mar- 
ried at a registry office. 

Cedric. The deuce you did! What did she 
say? 

Flora, She merely said : " Of course your 
wish is our law, Mrs. Lloyd." But the next day 
she was calling me " Flora " again. 

Cedric, The mater folded up like that.^^ 

Flora. There! [Lauglimg.^ Listen to your 
own tone, dearest. Naturally she folded up. She 
only needs proper treatment. 

Cedric. Well, I had a bit of a stir with her 
when I decided to give up my amateur status ; but 
I must say as a rule I get on very well with the 
mater. 

Flora. So do I. It's because I get on so well 
with her that we had a curate to-day instead of 



ACT I 15 

the Bishop. Rather a jolly curate, didn't you 
think? 

Cedric. Struck me as a queer lot. 

Flora, Of course they're all queer. I liked him 
because when he asked me to sign my name he 
didn't say [imitating the snigger of a curate'\ " for 
the last time." They always do, you know. It's 
almost part of the service, for them. And if he 
had said it, I do believe I should have screamed. 

Cedric. I say. Fluff, why after hiding this se- 
cret for several weeks — it's practically a double 
life that you've been leading — why do you reveal 
it just at this particular moment? 

Flora, Oh — sheer caprice, my dearest ! It 
just popped into my head. 

Cedric [somewhat troubled and awkward^. So 
your notion is that the mater's moral empire over 
her family and the British public might be checked 
without grave loss of life, eh? 

Flora, Cedric ! [Cedric looks at her, arrested 
and questioning,^ What's the rarest thing in the 
world ? Quick ? 

Cedric, Common-sense, of course. 

Flora, Oh 1 Good ! I was afraid you might 
say a well-cooked potato. 

Cedric, You ought to know me better than that. 

Flora, But, Cedric, it's only now that we're be- 
ginning to make each other's acquaintance. 

Cedric, That's true ! But how did you know 
that common-sense is the rarest thing in the world? 



16 THE HONEYMOON 

Flora, Because I've got so very little of it 
myself. But even a very little will go a long way. 
Now, have I told you that our marriage isn't going 
to be like ordinary marriages — I mean, really ? 

Cedric. Well, you haven't exactly told me, but 
you've allowed me to suspect the fact. 

Flora. Most marriages, and especially most 
honeymoons, are third-rate simply because the peo- 
ple concerned in them don't bring their bit of com- 
mon-sense to bear on the problems that are \moch 
platform manner^ — er — continually arising. 
[Laughing. ~\ I intend to keep my bit of common- 
sense healthy by constant exercise. Common- 
sense, steadily applied, will solve any problem. 

Cedric [emphatically^. Any! [After a pause. "] 
Always provided 

Flora [surprised^. Always provided? 

Cedric. My dear, in this outpouring of wisdom 
I, too, must have my share. Common-sense will 
solve any problem — any ! — always provided it is 
employed simultaneously with politeness. During 
a long and varied career as a bachelor, dear spouse 
[mock platform manner^ , I have noticed that mar- 
riage is usually the death of politeness between a 
man and a woman. I have noticed that the 
stronger the passion the weaker the manners. 
Now, my theory is that politeness, instead of de- 
creasing with intimacy — should increase 1 And 
when I say " politeness " I mean common, super- 
ficial politeness. I don't mean the deep-down sort 



ACT I 17 

of thing that you can only detect with a divining- 
rod. . . . Pardon, you were saying? 

Flora. Cedric ! [Impulsively rushes to him 
and kisses him.~[ How right you are ! It's exactly 
what I've been thinking for years. Now, as to 
common-sense and the programme. It would be 
against common-sense for us to begin by annoying 
your mother. If you really do think your mother 
would be in the least upset by our not going to 
Paris, naturally I shall be delighted to go. We 
could stop just long enough to inspect the lamp- 
post — and then off again. 

Cedric. Oh, no ! Oh, no ! Of course she won't 
be upset! 

Flora. That's settled, then. Do you know I've 
had the tiniest idea of going to Ostend, and then 
taking the Orient express to Buda-Pesth .? I'm dy- 
ing to see Hungary, simply dying. 

Cedric. My dearest, your life shall be saved re- 
gardless of cost. 

Flora. I do want an expensive honeymoon. 
Not because I'm extravagant, but because a honey- 
moon is a solemn, important thing. 

Cedric. A symbol. 

Flora. A symbol. And it ought to be done — 
well, adequately. 

Cedric. Nineteen thousand pounds odd of mine 
is now on deposit at my bank — all honestly taken 
by me out of the pockets of ratepayers of various 
important towns in less than a year. And when 



18 THE HONEYMOON 

that's gone I can always get more at about the same 
rate, as you know. 

Flora, Cedric ! There is to be no flying during 
our honeymoon? 

Cedric. Certainly not! 

Flora. And it is to last a full month, naturally. 

Cedric. A full calendar month — with no ad- 
dress for letters. 

Flora [sigh of ecstatic anticipation]. Two or 
three days, you said, here? 

Cedric. Yes, don't you think it's enough? 

Flora. Oh ! quite. We shall be gone before 
anybody's had time to guess — [breaking off]. 
Dearest, don't you think we came into the hotel 
rather well? 

Cedric. Fine. No one could suspect that we 
hadn't been horn married. I was proud of both 
of us. [Enter Gaston, e.] 

Gaston. Shall I clear the table? [Beginning 
to do so before receiving permission.] 

Flora. Yes. [Flora and Cedric rise.] 

Gaston [with a cheerful air, quite unconscious 
of his impudent manner]. I suppose you stay here 
long time ? 

Flora [determined to snub the waiter]. Really! 

Cedric. Why ? 

Gaston. Oh ! honeymoon. Dull place. Fresh 
married English people demand generally dull 
place. [Flora collapses and exit hurriedly into 
the garden, -l. Cedric, with more leisurely dignity. 



ACT I 19 

lights a cigarette and is about to follow her when 
he stops and turns. ^ 

Cedric. By the way, I don't think we shall stay 
long. 

Gaston [after looking at Flora in the garden, 
impartially/ and cheerfully']. It is strange how 
English people have shame of being married. One 
would say it was a crime in England. A young 
man and young lady in English hotel — they like 
better that one should think they not married. It 
is different in Switzerland. In Switzerland we are 
proud. We tell all the world. Why not.?* 

Cedric. So you come from Switzerland.? 

Gaston. Oh, yes. I am not English [eagerly], 
Geneva. My father is a fabricant, a 

Cedric. Manufacturer. 

Gaston, Yes, manufacturer of door-mats. My 
father makes door-mats for all the hotels in Switzer- 
land. Very big ! Very important ! He says — I 
must go into the hotel business. He will buy me a 
hotel. I learn everything. We do that in 
Switzerland. We are scientifique. I have been in 
the kitchens. Now I am waiter. No shame. No- 
body could guess I am a gentleman. 

Cedric. You mustn't be too hard on yourself, 
my friend. And so you've come to England? 

Gaston. My father says. Go to England. 
Study the English caractere in England. Very 
valuable. When I come to London I could not 
speak English — no ! 



20 THE HONEYMOON 

Cedr'ic. When was that? Last week? 

Gaston. No. It is a year, nearly. But I had 
at once a situation, the first day, at the Grand 
Babylon Hotel. 

Cedric, Rather awkward, wasn't it, not know- 
ing English? 

Gaston. Yes. That fatigues one — to hear a 
strange language all the day. 

Cedric. I meant for the customers. 

Gaston [^nonchalant gesture^. They are now 
well habituated. Many of them learn French or 
German, it saves time. English people are so 
practical. They are not logique, but they are 
practical. Now to-day I speak German, Italian, 
as perfectly as English. 

Cedric. Remarkable ! But surely a man of 
your enormous ability is wasted in a sleepy place 
like this. . . . Perhaps you find it amusing, 
though. 

Gaston [shakes his head. Passionately^. Dull! 
It is for my health that I am here. Sleepy ! Ah, 
my God! [Disdainfully. 'I But all England 
sleeps. . , . But next month I go to Germany. 
I shall have done England. 

Cedric. You like Germany. 

Gaston. Ah ! What a country ! What organ- 
isation ! What science ! Never sleeps ! Always 
conquers! [P atronisingly .^ Do you think in 
your business the Germans will not conquer, at the 
end? 

Cedric, My business? 



ACT I gl 

Gaston. Yes. Aeroplanes. 

Cedric. So you know that? 

Gaston. I know everything. . . . Look at 
anileen ! 

Cedric. Anileen ? 

Gaston. Yes. Anileen — colours. 

Cedric, Ah ! You mean aniline dyes, 

Gaston. Yes, I said so. 

Cedric. What about them.'' 

Gaston. What about them.? England invented 
them. Germany has taken them from you — all. 
That is science. All German now. So with aero- 
planes. England and France — proud, very 
proud. But at the end, you will see ... at 
the end. 

Cedric. Oh ! 

Gaston. And soon. 

Cedric. I say, if it isn't a rude question, how 
did you guess that we were — er — on our honey- 
moon.? It might be useful for me to know. 

Gaston. Ah, now — again ! I read, I study. 
I alone in this sleepy place. By example, no 
afternoon newspapers — none — came into this 
place till I ordered one at the railway. I insisted. 
" The Piccadilly Gazette " — you know — Thack- 
eray — " written by gentlemen for gentlemen." I 
read it every day. Ah! And is it not afraid of 
Germany ! 

Cedric. Do you mean there's something about 
my marriage in the " Piccadilly Gazette " ? 



22 THE HONEYMOON 

Gaston. Yes. Do you want to read it? 

Cedric, Well, I should rather like to see it, if 
I'm not interfering with your studies. 

Gaston [taking paper out of Ms pocket^. 
There! \_Stands waiting in a suggestive attitude.^ 

Cedric [accepting paper^ . Thanks 1 [Looks 
at him and gives him a tip.^ 

Gaston [pocketing the coini . Thanks ! . . . 
And you will see about Klopstock too. [Picking 
up tray. 'I 

Cedric. What about Klopstock? 

Gaston. He comes to England soon as he has 
flyed at Breslau. Ah! You will see! [Exit r. 
with tray. Cedric sits down with paper, and be- 
gins to read.~\ 

Cedric [quietlyl. Oh! [He drops the end of 
his cigarette into a flower-pot ; then takes a cigar 
from his case, cuts it, puts it in his mouth, and 
produces a matchbox, but does not light i^.] 

Cedric. Oh, indeed! [He goes to the window, 
and taps on one of the closed panes. After a 
moment Flora appears at the open part of the 
window. Cedric, with a motion of the hand, indi- 
cates that he wishes her to enter. ^ 

Flora [off, in a conspiratorial whisper^. Has 
the reader of hearts quite gone? [Cedric nods.'\ 
Come out. [Cedric beckons her inwards with his 
finger. Enter Flora, l.] 

Flora. Oh, Cedric ! What a blow ! We're the 



ACT I 23 

honeymoon couple now of Pixton-on-Sea. How 
did he guess ? 

Cedric \_scarcely listening to her^. Fluff, read 
this l^hands her paper with his finger on a particu- 
lar paragraph^. Top of second column. 

Flora \^reads^. "We are informed that Mr. 
Cedric Haslam, the celebrated aviator [^Cedric 
shows surprise^ was married privately this morn- 
ing at Colchester to Mrs. Flora Lloyd, widow of 
the late Mr. Artemus Lloyd, stockbroker, who at 
one time was a well-known figure in the Kaffir Cir- 
cus. Mr. and Mrs. Reach Haslam, the bride- 
groom's parents, and his brother, Mr. Charles Has- 
lam, were present. The happy pair are spending 
the first part of the honeymoon at Pixton-on-Sea. 
By a curious coincidence, Mrs. Reach Haslam's 
new novel, ' The Wiving of the Chancellor,' ap- 
pears on the very day of the marriage of her eldest 
son." \_Shaki/ng her head.^ Only one thing is 
possible. Flight. Immediate flight 1 And plenty 
of it ! Cedric, I suppose this is your dear mother's 
doing ? 

Cedric. I should doubt it. More probably 
some accidental leakage. She hates the very 
thought of self-advertisement. 

Flora. Oh! I know. But I've always noticed 
she's somewhat unlucky in the matter of leakages. 
Your father ought to study plumbing. 

Cedric [slightly impatient^. That's nothing. 



24. THE HONEYMOON 

That's not what I wanted you to read. I hadn't 
even noticed that. Look ! [^Pointing to a para- 
graph.^ 

Flora. " Dissensions In the Cabinet. Extraor- 
dinary rumours." 

Cedric. No, no. \_Ta1i;es the paper and reads.^ 
*' The German Invasion. To-morrow, upon the 
conclusion of the Breslau meeting, Herr Klopstock 
will pack up his victorious new mono-plane and 
start for England. He announces his intention 
of trying within three weeks for the ten thousand 
pounds prize recently offered by the Aero Club to 
the first aviator who flies over Snowdon. Herr 
Klopstock, who has already, we understand, taken 
the whole of a hotel at Beddgelert for the accom- 
modation of his staff, is convinced that his machine 
will rise easily to at least four thousand feet. The 
Kaiser has just christened the aeroplane the Black 
Eagle, by telegraph, and has assured the renowned 
aviator and ex-professor of the heartiest good 
wishes of himself and his house. His youngest 
grandchild, Prince — um — um — Fatherland — 
um — The news will certainly create a considerable 
sensation in England as it has done in Germany." 
I should say it would. 

Flora. Why should It.?* 

Cedric. What! The Kaiser's Black Eagle 
flying over the highest mountain in England, and 
getting ten thousand pounds for the job ! It's un- 
thinkable ! How does it strike you? 



ACT I 25 

Flora. It strikes me that it would have been 
much simpler and less expensive not to have of- 
fered the ten thousand pounds. It's altogether too 
tempting. Besides, it seems to me anybody ought 
to be able to fly over a little thing like Snowdon, 
seeing how they sail over the Pyrenees and all that 
sort of thing. 

Cedric. My adorable child, don't talk like a 
member of the public. Henceforth you are in the 
know. The fogs alone make Snowdon worse than 
the Pyrenees. And then the Aero Club has been 
clever enough to ordain that the aviator is to start 
and land within four miles of the summit. How 
is a man to get off on such ground, and where is he 
to land without breaking wood? And then the 
business of finding his way! He's bound to do a 
lot of corkscrewing to get up, and nothing less 
than six thousand feet would be safe. 

Flora [with a gesture dismissing all thatl. 
Well, I don't think it's quite nice of Mr. Klopstock. 
It ought to have occurred to him. But then, it 
never does seem to occur to Germans. 
I've often noticed that in hotels. They don't seem 
to perceive. [Different tone.^ Will he succeed? 

Cedric, He might. I don't think he would; 
not with his present horse-power ; but he just might. 

Flora. Well, most probably he won't. And 
then you can try in July as you originally intended, 
and get the money after all. Then there will have 
been some sense in the prize, anyway. 



26 THE HONEYMOON 

Cedric. It isn't the money. 

Flora. Surely it isn't the mountain? 

Cedric [following his own thought~\. We've got 
to come out on top in this business. I must get 
to business in the middle of next week. It'll take 
a day to modify those wing-tips, and another to 
tune her up. Oh! I shall be ready long before 
he is. But I'll give him a chance to get nicely 
installed in his hotel. I should like Herr 
Klopstock and his crew to admire the beautiful 
scenery. 

Flora [casually~\. You must be at the works 
next week? 

Cedric. It's me or nobody ! No use trying to 
disguise that fact, Fluff! 

Flora. Perhaps in the heat of the moment 
you've forgotten that you happened to get mar- 
ried this morning, Cedric. 

Cedric. I wish we hadn't happened to get mar- 
ried this morning. \^She looks at /im.] I mean, 
I wish we'd happened to get married a week ago. 
Frantic nuisance ! However, there you are ! It 
simply means we shall be fixed up a bit sooner in 
the flat 

Flora. But the flat won't be anything like ready 
by next week. 

Cedric. Never mind, we'll sleep at the Grand 
Babylon, or in the backyard. \_A little pause.^ 
Of course as a nuisance it completely baffles de- 
scription. . . . To-day of all days. 



ACT I 27 

However, Fluff, as I said before with profound 
truth — there you are ! It would never do in this 
world to give the German lot even a chance. The 
thing's too spectacular — altogether too spec- 
tacular. If it was a question of beating us quietly 
and for ever in technics or manufacture, the B.P. 
wouldn't think twice about it; but Snowdon is 
Snowdon, and a black eagle is a black eagle, and 
[comically'] in short, madam, England will turn to 
your husband in its hour of peril. In other words, 
Fluff, it's up to me. 

Flora [lightly]. I say, Cedric. 

Cedric, Well? 

Flora, I thought we were agreed about a full 
calendar month. 

Cedric [after a pause; as lightly as possible]. 
Do you mean you think I ought to let Snowdon 
slide? Do you really- 

Flora. Yes, of course. Don't you? 

Cedric, You aren't serious? 

Flora [persuasively]. My dearest boy, is there 
any reason why I shouldn't differ from you and 
yet be serious? 

Cedric, No, of course not. But in a case like 
this — if there was anybody else to take my place, 
I wouldn't mind. Of course Smith-James could 
do it if only he would use our machine — but he 
won't. Nothing would induce him to. So as I 
keep on saying — there you are ! 

Flora, But what does it matter? Is it because 



28 THE HONEYMOON 

the other man's machine has been called the Black 
Eagle in a telegram that you 

Cedric. Yes, partly. 

Flora. Oh! So that if this canvas-backed 
duck flies first over a lump of mud called Snow- 
don 

Cedric. But don't I tell you Snowdon is the 
highest mountain in England? 

Flora. No, it isn't. 

Cedric. Pardon me. Three thousand five hun- 
dred and seventy feet. The next highest is 

Flora. Well, you go and tell Lloyd George 
that Snowdon is the highest mountain in England, 
and see what you'll get. 

Cedric. Wales, then. It's all the same. 

Flora [with great charm^. If you're thinking 
of the ten thousand pounds, I don't mind inform- 
ing you, as a great secret, that I wouldn't sell a 
single day of my honeymoon with you for ten times 
ten thousand pounds. But I told you I wanted 
an expensive honeymoon, didn't I? 

Cedric [shaking his head and with calm cer- 
tainty\. The money doesn't influence me that 
much! [Sna'ps his fingers.^ I don't wish to flat- 
ter myself, but I think I could light your cigarette 
with a bank note as gracefully as anybody. 
No 

Flora. You're pulling away at that cigar of 
yours, but I suppose you know it isn't lighted. 

Cedric. Isn't it.^ [As he lights the cigar. 1^ 



ACT I 29 

No ! This Snowdon business. Well, it's a symbol 
[^half to himself^. I wonder how I can make you 
understand that. 

Flora \_fascmatinglj/'\. Oh! Force is unneces- 
sary, I understand that. But who was it said just 
now that the honeymoon was a symbol? It stands 
for all our married life. It's the most exciting 
and interesting time we shall ever have. And you 
can't put a honeymoon off, you know. It isn't 
like a box of cigars that you can keep in a cup- 
board and enjoy one of them every now and then 
when you've got a few minutes to spare. It must 
happen now or never. You can't postpone it. 
You can only kill it. ]^Smiles lightly.^ 

Cedric [taking hold of her, in a caressing tone'\. 
She's tragic ! 

Flora [disengaging herself]. Oh, no! 

Cedric. Now just listen to me. Fluff. I'm 
really thinking at least as much of you as of myself. 
This affair is bound to have an influence on my 
career. 

Flora. And what about its influence on mine? 

Cedric, Same thing. I suppose our interests 
are identical. 

Flora. My poor simple boy, do you really be- 
lieve that? 

Cedric, Well, dash it, aren't you my wife? 

Flora. So far as I'm concerned, it would be 
more correct to say that you're my husband. In 
fact, you've got a career as my husband. 



80 THE HONEYMOON 

Cedric [anxious to he fa'ir^. Certainly. And 
jou as my wife. But 

Flora. One second, dearest. You're unique as 
an aviator, aren't you.^ 

Cedric [^conventionally modest'\. Oh — 
well 

Flora, Now. Man to man. Give your mod- 
esty a rest. Really, don't you consider you've 
proved yourself unique in your line? 

Cedric [hesitatingly^ chivalrously^. I suppose 
I'm just about as unique in my line as you are in 
yours, my dear. 

Flora. Now that's very nice of you. 

Cedric. Not at all. 

Flora. Yes, it is, because it's exactly what I 
wanted you to say. You've often said that I'm 
unique, and I just wanted you to say it again at 
this identical particular instant. Of course I could 
have reminded you of it, but that wouldn't have 
been quite so effective. That's why it's very nice 
of you. 

Cedric, So you are unique — I'll say it as 
often as you like. 

Flora, I warn you, you're giving yourself 
away. 

Cedric, Delighted ! 

Flora. I wouldn't care to repeat all the lovely 
adjectives you've used about me. If you weren't 
such a determined enemy of gush and superlatives 
— people might suspect that sometimes you exag- 



ACT I SI 

gerated the tiniest bit when you talked about me, 
to me. But of course / know you never do exag- 
gerate, at any rate consciously, and you know 
you're a very good judge. 

Cedric, What of.? 

Flora. Us [ . , . Now look here, Cedric, 
don't you think it would be a pity to stop this 
creature, who is so unique in her line, from giving 
a full exhibition of her unique powers at a unique 
moment; at the very height of her career. You 
know, she'll never have another opportunity like 
this of proving that she really is unique in her 
line. 

Cedric. What do you call her line? Let's be 
clear. 

Flora [quietly, off-handedly, after a pausel. 
To charm. Merely that. 

Cedric. By God! She can do that. But 
[winningly, hut half to himself 1, I hardly know 
how to put it. 

Flora. I think you do, dearest ; but you're so 
nice, you don't like to. You wanted to make a 
comparison between the importance of your line 
and the importance of mine. I admit all that. 
I'm quite humble. I fully admit that if Hyde 
Park were full of aviators and Battersea Park 
were full of charming young women, rather 
pretty and — er — chic — [gesture to show of 
her frockl — I fully admit that not a man among 
you would ever dream — of crossing the river. I 



3^ THE HONEYMOON 

fully admit that if every aviator in Europe gave 
up business to-morrow the entire world would go 
into mourning, whereas if all the charming women 
retired from business they'd never be missed. 

Still 

Cedric [appreciative^. You're a witty girl 



Flora. We're both rather witty, aren't we, at 
times ? 

Cedric. But the fact is I wasn't going to make 
any comparison at all between our respective lines. 
I was only going to point out that you can keep 
on being charming all the time. You're always 
charming; you're always doing your line. 
Whereas for my line I have to choose times and 
seasons — or rather I don't choose 'em, they're 
chosen for me, as, for instance, just now. Wher- 
ever we are, honeymoon or no honeymoon, you're 
— well, you're giving an exhibition flight. 

Flora. Now, Cedric, your good nature's get- 
ting the better of your sincerity. I'm not always 
charming. Ask your dear mother. And have 
you forgotten our historic shindy about the length 
of your moustache scarcely three months ago? 
I'm not always charming. And I don't want to 
be always charming. Who would? As for exhi- 
bition flights, you've never seen me give one. You 
think you have, but what you've seen up to now 
is nothing. I don't mind telling you that I had 
arranged a rather sensational exhibition flight for 
the next month. It would last just thirty-one 



ACT I 33 

days. I don't mind telling you that I've thought 
a good deal about it, and made all my elaborate 
preparations. It really would be a pity to inter- 
fere with it. And you know it can't be postponed. 
I don't choose time and season any more than 
you do. 

Cedric. But surely, Fluff, this flight can pro- 
ceed, as I say, wherever we sere? 

Flora, You think so? And what about my 
grandstand.? 

Cedric, I shall always be your grandstand. 

Flora. Shall you.? I can only do my best 
when I've got the undivided attention of my audi- 
ence. I hope I should never come quite to earth, 
but I don't see myself being unique in my line for 
the benefit of a man who is busy Iwith the faintest 
touch of irony in her tone'] counting the misfires 
in his motor, or dreaming about the barometer. 

Cedric, Naturally, if you don't see the im- 
portance of this Snowdon business to us 

Flora [^consciously very charming again]. But 
I do see it perfectly well. A woman unique in 
her own line is not necessarily a gaping idiot in 
every other line. I admit the immense importance 
of Snowdon to us. I won't argue. In my time 
I've been told that I was too well-dressed to be able 
to argue. I simply want to ask you this — what, 
for you, is the 7^05^ important thing in life.? Now, 
let's be straight. Have you married as a supreme 
end, or is your supreme end to move yourself 



34* THE HONEYMOON 

about in the air without visible means of support? 
Now [^smilingli, look me in the face, and be a man. 

Cedric. You're putting very fundamental ques- 
tions. 

Flora. Is marriage a relaxation from flying, 
or do you fly in order to have the means for prac- 
tising the whole art of marriage under favourable 
conditions? Do you live most intensely when 
you're battling with the breeze, or when you're 
[^dropping her voiced with me? I only want to 
know. Because if you live most intensely when 
you're with me, this honeymoon should be worth 
more to us than forty Snowdons. 

Cedric [a little coldly^. Say no more, Snowdon 
is chucked. Of course, my position is impossible. 
You have only to insist. 

Flora [losing her self-control^. Insist? Insist 
that you neglect an aeroplane so that you can stay 
with me? My dear boy, I'm incapable of taking 
such a mean advantage of an aeroplane. An aero- 
plane can't insist. And I can assure you I shan't. 

Cedric, Do you know that you're scarcely 
logical ? 

Flora, Not logical? In not insisting? 

Cedric [somewhat at a loss~\. I mean generally. 
For instance, when we began, your first argument 
was that we couldn't shorten the honeymoon be- 
cause the flat wouldn't be ready. 

Flora. One can't think of everything at once. 
You mustn't forget I've never been called to the 



ACT I 35 

bar. If I'd known what was coming, no doubt I 
should have prepared my case and had It typewrit- 
ten, and sent copies to the press. . . . And 
then what about your being Illogical .f* 

Cedric. Me? 

Flora. Yes. When I ask you for a straight 
answer you protest that I'm putting very funda- 
mental questions. Did you expect me to put shal- 
low questions .f^ Did you expect me to enquire 
whether you'd used Pears' soap? 

Cedric. Now look here, Fluffiest 

Flora [angry~\, Cedric, I wish you wouldn't 
call me that. You've only started It since we were 
married. I can stand Fluff, but I don't Hke Fluffy, 
and my objection to Fluffiest Is Intense. 

Cedric, I beg your pardon. 

Flora [recovering herself, sweetly~\. It's I who 
beg yours. For the moment I was forgetting that 
" common superficial politeness " that you ranked 
with common-sense. 

Cedric, My dear child, everything's all right. 
The honeymoon shall not be shortened by a single 
day. Everything's absolutely all right. 

Flora [shakes her head^ . It Isn't. You're only 
giving way to please me. 

Cedric. Well, really [laughing']. 

Flora. Cedric. Honestly. Yes or no. Do 
you think I ought to yield to the aeroplane ? 

Cedric [they look at each other]. I think you 
oughtn't to ask quite such questions? 



36 THE HONEYMOON 

Flora \_agreeing']. No. Such questions ought 
to be asked earlier. But human nature is so — 
human, that probably it wouldn't be any use ask- 
ing them any earlier. They might even be con- 
sidered rude. In fact, it is considered rude for 
fiances to worry each other with any questions that 
really matter. [Pause, In a vague voice. ^ 
Whether you prefer a flat or a house, and the col- 
our of the drawing-room chairs — that's about as 
far as you are supposed to go. [Another pause.^ 
WeU.? 

Cedric [approaching her~\. What? 

Flora. Do you think I ought to yield to the 
aeroplane ? 

Cedric [stands stilly very frmlyl. My dear girl, 
if you ask me to be straight, I think the Snowdon 
business isn't a thing to be neglected. [Pause at 
high tension,"] 

Flora [plaintively]. Common-sense doesn't 
seem to be such a wonderful cure for difficulties 
after all. [Fiercely.] Oh! If I had faith, 
wouldn't I just move that mountain into the sea! 
[Gives a sob.] 

Cedric, Flora, what can I say? 

Flora [controlling herself]. There's nothing 
else to be said — by either of us. It's — it's hope- 
less. [Enter Charles Haslam, e., cautiously. He 
is in motoring attire.] 

Charles [at the door, to someone outside]. It's 
all right. We've caught 'em [within the room]. 



ACT I 37 

Cedrlc [extremely puzzled; frowning']. Hello! 

Charles, Hello! . . . Flora, what's the 
matter? 

Flora [collectmg herself; ironically']. Oh, noth- 
ing! nothing! This is a nice kind idea of yours, 
to come and relieve our solitude, but did you ex- 
pect us not to be startled? [Enter Mr. Reach 
Haslam.] 

Cedric. Hello. [Mr. Reach Haslam gives a 
deprecating gesture.] 

Mr, R. Haslam. My dear Flora ! [Enter Mrs, 
Reach Haslam.] 

Cedric. Any more? [Enter Gaston.] 

Flora. Well, this is a pleasure. Unusual, per- 
haps 

Mrs. Reach Haslam, My dear son, my dear 

Flora [Turns to Mr, Reach Haslam,] 

Father [Stops.] 

Mr, Reach Haslam [to Gaston, who is hovering 
inquisitively about]. If there is the slightest doubt 
in your mind as to the exact geographical situation 
of the door 

Gaston. Please ? [Meaning " I beg your par- 
don, I didn't catch what you said! " Mr. Reach 
Haslam goes to door, r., and signals to Gaston to 
depart. Exit Gaston. Mr, Reach Haslam closes 
door.] 

Cedric [aside to Charles]. What the hell's 
up? 

Charles [loudly]. Well, Rick 



38 THE HONEYMOON 

Mrs. R. Haslam. Charles, what did I tell you 
before you came in? I'll thank you to go and sit 
down over there. [^Charles obeys.^ 

Flora, Suppose we all sit down, shall we? 
Well, what did you tell him before he came in? 

Mrs. R, Haslam [^sits^. Believe me, Flora, I 
never felt so unequal to a situation in my hfe. 

Cedric. Look here, dad, do you mind telling me 
in one word what this is all about? 

Mrs. R. Haslam. Yes, your father will tell you. 
The circumstances are exceedingly difficult — in 
fact, painful. But they have to be faced, and 
faced with dignity. The various necessary steps 
must be taken, in their proper order, very carefully. 
The first step is to inform you and Flora of the 
facts. Your father will inform you ; as the head 
of the family, and the fount of authority, the state- 
ment comes more properly from him. I decided 
that absolutely as we motored down. [To Mr. 
Reach Haslam.^ Dear 

Mr. R. Haslam, Yes, dear. \To Cedric and 
Flora.^ You know we went straight back to town 
when you'd left the church. As soon as we 
had 

Mrs. R. Haslam [interrupting, to Cedric and 
Floral. You needn't be alarmed. As I said, the 
circumstances are painful, but once faced as we 
shall face them, they really amount to nothing. 
The principal thing was to catch you in time. 
Thank heaven, we've done that ! 



ACT I 29 

Charles, Thank my masterly and audacious 
driving ! 

Mrs. R. Haslam [staring li'im dowrfl. If we had 
failed ! [^Gesture of despair to Mr. Reach Has- 
lam.^ Dear 

Mr, R. Haslam [nodding to her politely^. As 
soon as we had finished lunch your mother set her- 
self to work, her work being very much behind 

Mrs. R. Haslam. Never mind all that. Do it 
as gently as you can, but come to the point at once. 
I am quite sure that is best. 

Mr. R. Haslam. The telephone? 

Mrs. R. Haslam. The telephone. 

Mr. R. Haslam [nodding to her politely']. We 
were rung up on the telephone. Your mother was 
walking about in meditation, and as she was nearest 
to the telephone she answered it. She then said to 
me, " It's the Bishop of Colchester." I was at the 
desk. In another moment she asked me to come to 
the telephone and listen for myself as she could 
scarcely believe her ears. I did so, and the Bishop 
— he was telephoning from the Palace at Colches- 
ter — repeated at my request what he had said to 
your mother, namely, that that curate who — er — 
officiated this morning, suddenly awakened to a 
sense of beauty 

Mrs, R. Haslam. Sense of duty. 

Mr, R. Haslam, I quite understood " beauty." 
It's true the Bishop hasn't got a good telephone 
voice — probably more impressive at a confirma- 



4*0 THE HONEYMOON 

tion than on the telephone, I heard " beauty." 
However 

Mrs. R. Haslam. Sense of duty. 

Mr. R. Haslam. No doubt you are right. I 
seemed to gather that it was Flora's beauty that 
had roused his conscience. 

Mrs. R. Haslam. Oh, no! 

Flora. That had what? 

Charles [^coming towards the group, unahle to 
control his impatience^. Oh, hang it! The curate 
was a sham curate — not a curate at all. 

Cedric [taMng it m]. A sham curate! 

Flora. But surely such things don't happen? 

Mrs. R. Haslam. That's what many people said 
when I made a shopwalker successfully personate 
an archdeacon in " The Woman of Kent." Every- 
one said so until Mr. Gladstone wrote that he found 
the episode quite convincing. You remember, 
dear ? 

Mr. R. Haslam. Vividly. 

Mrs. R. Haslam. I assure you it happens quite 
frequently that from one cause or another people 
who think they are married are not married. Why, 
sometimes special Acts of Parliament have to be 
passed in order to set things right — when they've 
gone altogether too far. I well recall that when I 
studied this subject, as of course I did, coming 
across a case in which, owing to a church having 
been consecrated very carelessly, a lady who sup- 



ACT I 4.1 

posed herself to be the legitimate mother of sixteen 
children — poor thing 

Flora [interrupting^. But do jou mean to say 
we aren't married? 

Mrs. R. Haslam. Well, of course, I want to 

put it as gently as possible, but the fact is 

[looking at her husband^. 

Mr, R, Haslam, It would be an exaggeration to 
say that you are married. 

Mrs. R. Haslam. If my idea had been accepted 
of having the Bishop to officiate — and he would 
have been only too enchanted — in the cathedral, 
this dreadful thing could not have occurred. No 
case of personating a bishop has ever been known. 

Cedric, But what are we to do ? 

Charles [airilif\. Well, you must make the best 
of it. 

Mrs. R, Haslam [outraged^. Certainly not, 
Charles, you are astounding. It would have looked 
better of you if you had remained outside in charge 
of the car. Make the best of it, indeed ! [To Mr. 
Reach Haslam.^ Father 

Mr. R. Haslam [to Cedric^. For the moment a 
policy of masterly inactivity seems to be indicated. 

[Curtain.~\ 



NOTES ON CHARACTERS IN ACT II 

The Bishop of Colchester. Celibate. The typical 
Bishop, who, while the bent of his mind is re- 
actionary, convinces himself that he is exceedingly 
modern, and moving with the rapid times. No 
real intellectual quality, but energetic and self- 
adaptive. 

Mr. Frampington. A bland young man, with perfect 
manners and perfect sangfroid. A single-minded 
person of immense intellectual and spiritual origi- 
nality. To himself he does not seem at all pe- 
culiar, but merely natural. 

Cuthbert. Just a plain modern butler. I particu- 
larly do not want this trifling part to be em- 
broidered by the conventional butler " business.** 
If any genuine realistic butler " business " can be 
brought into it, well and good. 



ACT II 

Scene. — Mrs. Reach Haslam's study, A large 
apartment, richly and suitably furnished. 
The retreat of one of the most successful, most 
wealthy, and most majestic novelists in the 
world. Large and splendid desk [for two peo- 
ple, sitting opposite each other^ about the mid- 
dle of the room. Door back leading to hall, 
etc. Door, l., leading to drawing-room. 
Down stage, left, a sofa, which is partly hid- 
den by a screen from the view of anyone enter- 
ing by door, l. Date calendar on desk. 
Telephone. All the Haslams except Charles 
are in evening dress. Flora is elaborately at- 
tired, with a light Egyptian shawl on her 
shoulders, and a fan. 

Time. — Same evening. Immediately after dinner. 
The Bishop is waiti/ng, alone. Enter to him, 
from door back, Mrs. Reach Haslam, followed 
by Mr. Reach Haslam. 

Mrs, R. Haslam \^as she enters'\. Ah! Bishop! 
How good of you ! [Shakes hands.'\ 

Bishop [shaking hands with Mr. Reach Has- 
lam^, My dear Mrs. Reach Haslam. Not at all! 
I blush for my diocese — that such a deplorable 

43 



44 THE HONEYMOON 

and distressing accident should have occurred in it. 

Mrs. R, Haslam. Then it really is true? 

Bishop. But I told you on the telephone. 

Mrs. R, Haslam. I know, I know ! I was only 
hoping against hope that perhaps after all you 
might have found that the marriage was legal. 

Bishop [shalcing Ms head^. No. His late 
father was undoubtedly in orders, his late brother 
also. But he himself was no more ordained than 
you are. \To Mr, Reach Haslam, who recoils.^ 
He presumed on his relationships. ... In 
fact, his sole qualification seems to have been two 
old suits of his brother's. 

Mrs. R. Haslam. Well, after all, it is perhaps 
better so. 

Bishop. Better, dear lady? 

Mrs. R. Haslam. I mean that you have not 
brought good news at the eleventh hour. Really 
[Looking at Mr. Reach Haslam,^ 

Mr. R. Haslam [to whom the Bishop, puzzled, 
turns for an explanation~\. My wife, with her 
novelist's instinct, perceives the situation that 
would be created if we had to go into the drawing- 
room now and say to them suddenly, " Well, you 
are married, after all." 

Mrs, R. Haslam. Excessively delicate. They 
would naturally have to leave the house at once. 

Bishop. Quite so. I cannot tell you how re- 
lieved I was to get your wire saying that you had 
overtaken them in time. Young people make such 



ACT II 45 

a mystery of the honeymoon nowadays that often 
they don't even leave a postal address. A danger- 
ous innovation ! 

Mr. R, Haslam. Evidently. 

Bishop. I gather that you have brought them 
both here, poor things \ 

Mrs. R. Haslam. It seemed the wisest course. 
I consulted my husband, and he quite agreed with 
me that in view of the unusual circumstances we 
ought to act with the greatest prudence — for their 
sakes ! And so we motored quietly back to town 
and got here just in time for dinner. My son 
drove. I sat by his side. There wasn't room for 
their heavy luggage, and so Charlie is bringing that 
up by train. Charles is my other son. 
[^Sighs.l And here we are ! 

Bishop. Admirable ! It's a case of 

Mr. R. Haslam. As you were. 

Bishop. Just so ! Really a terrible blow to 
them — must have been ! And to you, and to you ! 
An appalling shock ! How have they borne it ? 

Mrs. R. Haslam. Well — [turning to Mr. R. 
Haslam~\. Father, how should you say they have 
borne it? 

Mr. R. Haslam, Grimly. That is — on the 
grim side. 

Bishop. Ah ! 

Mrs. R. Haslam. Of course, my Lord, we are 
taking it for granted that the matter can be put 
right to-morrow, without fail, and beyond question. 



46 THE HONEYMOON 

I have tried to comfort them with that absolute as- 
surance. 

Bishop. My dear lady. Without fail! At 
any hour ! any hour . . . up to three o'clock. 
That is why I have come specially to toTVTi — to 
convince you by my presence of my horror at the 
— er — crime, my sympathy with its innocent vic- 
tims, and my utter determination that the ceremony 
shall be performed again to-morrow morning under 
my personal supervision and guarantee. I feel 
that I cannot do too much. [During the last 
words enter Cuthbert, hacJc, with salver of letters 
and press cuttings, followed hy parlour-maid with 
a tray of newspaper packet s.~\ 

Mrs. R. Haslam. Will you excuse my husband 
while he deals with the post? 

Bishop. I beg [Mr. Reach Haslam sits 

down to desk and takes the post. Exeunt Serv- 
ant s.~\ 

Mrs. R. Haslam, I ought to apologise for re- 
ceiving you in my study, but I thought — my hus- 
band thought — we had better see you first alone. 
Are those the press cuttings, father? [Mr. Reach 
Haslam, nodding, opens press cuttings.^ 

Bishop. But for this unfortunate contretemps, 
what a charming coincidence that your new book 
should be published to-day of all days ! 

Mrs. R. Haslam. So you find time in your busy 
life, Bishop, to keep abreast of modern Hterature — 
even novels? 



ACT II 4j7 

Bishop. Even novels ! My dear lady, there is 
no greater force for good. 

Mrs. R. Haslam. Or for evil — alas ! 

Bishop. Quite so ! I have often thought — I 
have indeed said so from the platform — that the 
two most truly important influences for good in 
our generation are your novels and the leaflets of 
the National Society for Promoting the Education 
of the Poor in the Principles of the Established 
Church. 

Mrs. R. Haslam. Indeed! Father, do you re- 
call that press-cutting? 

Mr. R. Haslam [^bus7/~\. No. 

Bishop. It was reported in our Diocesan Maga- 
zine. 

Mrs, R. Haslam. And yet, my dear Bishop, I 
have more than once felt it my duty to criticise the 
Church rather sharply in my work. 

Bishop. I know, I know. We bow the head, we 
kiss the rod. 

Mrs. R. Haslam. In my new novel I am back 
in politics again. Have you seen it yet.'' 

Bishop. No, not yet. But I have already or- 
dered it from Boot's. 

Mrs. R. Haslam. Boot's? 

Bishop. Yes, the cash chemists. I find their 
circulating library the most economical of all. 
And I have to be particular. As you know, I pub- 
lish every year a detailed account of all my expendi- 
ture, personal and otherwise, and too large a sum 



48 THE HONEYMOON 

for books might be misconstrued as self-indulgence, 
especially in a bachelor. 

Mrs, R. Haslam. Ah, yes. [Handing him a 
hooliJ] Here is a copy. 

Bishop. Pretty cover. 

Mr, R, Haslam [to his wife, in a low tone\. 
Twenty-one columns. 

Mrs. R. Haslam \_pleased'\. Really! 

Bishop [looking up^. Twenty-one columns? 

Mrs, R, Haslam. We are treating you without 
ceremony, my dear Bishop. My husband has just 
calculated the total length of the reviews of my 
book that have appeared in the London papers on 
the first day. Of course we attach no value what- 
ever to the actual opinions expressed — the critics 
have to work in such a hurry — and they are so 
sadly unfitted for their work, poor dears — but the 
amount of space given is an excellent indication of 
the public importance ascribed to the book. 

Bishop [who has been inspecting the book']. 
How true ! 

Mrs. R. Haslam [to Mr. Reach Haslam]. Any- 
thing special? 

Mr. R, Haslam. No. " Surpassed herself," 
seven or eight times. '' Masterpiece," fourteen 
times. The " Piccadilly Gazette " is unfavourable. 

Mrs. R. Haslam. Very? 

Mr, R, Haslam. Yes. 

Mrs, R. Haslam. Better tell me. 

Mr. R. Haslam [deprecating gesture, reads]. 



ACT II 49 

" The book is of course admirable in workmanship, 
knowledge and insight, but Mrs. Reach Haslam has 
not, if the truth must be told, surpassed herself." 

Mrs, R. Haslam. If I'd known about that when 
I saw their lady reporter this morning ! . . . 

Bishop [putting the book dowTi]. Enthralling 
narrative! Enthralling! Now, my dear lady 
\_risi7ig'\. 

Mrs. R. Haslam [interrupting him^. Please sit 
down. As you are having a glimpse of me in my 
profession to-night, I want to ask you one or two 
professional questions — about the psychology of 
that false curate. 

Bishop [sitting down again']. Yes, yes. Psy- 
chology. Just so. 

Mrs. R. Haslam. I never lose an opportunity 
of gathering material. Father, will you mind tak- 
ing down? My husband is good enough to act as 
my stenographer. 

Bishop. Touching ! 

Mrs. R, Haslam. Now I noticed nothing re- 
markable about that curate. 

Bishop [agreeing]. No. And yet, you know 
— curious thing — he's a gentleman, quite ! Oh, 
quite! And I even remember once meeting his 
father, when I was Court Chaplain, at a garden 
party in aid of the Additional Curates Society. 

Mr. R. Haslam [repeating what he has written]. 
Curates Society. 

Mrs, R. Haslam. But why should he choose to 



50 THE HONEYMOON 

personate a curate? That is what is so interesting 
to a novelist. Why a curate? It couldn't have 
been for the money, or the glory. 

Mr, R, Haslam. Glory. 

Bishop. The case is highly peculiar. He Is 
certainly not without means, or brains. My opin- 
ion is that his action was due to excessive intel- 
lectual curiosity. He told me he wanted to feel 
what it was like to be a curate. 

Mrs, R. Haslam. Yet he looked quite sane. 

Bishop. Oh, quite ! Astonishing story ! His 
brother, through the influence of the Primate, had 
been engaged as curate, by the Vicar of St. Sav- 
iour's, Colchester, subject to an interview. This 
brother had been doing some chaplaining in 
Switzerland — just rough winter work. On the 
way home he died suddenly in Paris. Well, our 
friend of this morning calmly took up the dead 
man's identity. Came to Colchester, conquered 
the simple Vicar, and was at once accepted. That 
was two months ago. 

Mr. R. Haslam. Ago. 

Mrs. R. Haslam. But how dangerous. 

Bishop. So I pointed out to him. His reply 
was that it was just the danger that had attracted 
him — coupled with the desire to understand why 
the members of his family had had such a passion 
for curacy. It seems that two of his sisters have 
espoused curates. This will be a grievous blow for 
all of them. 



ACT II 51 

Mr. R. Haslam. All of them. 

Mrs. R. Haslam, But why should the man be 
struck with remorse just now? 

Bishop. Well, his explanation is that he was so 
moved by the bride's beauty. 

Mr. R. Haslam. Duty. 

Bishop. Beauty. \^Gesture of mild triumph 
from Mr. Reach Haslam to Mrs, Reach Haslam.'] 
He could not bear to think that any action of his 
should cause — er — inconvenience to a woman so 
beautiful. Hence he came to me at once. Fortu- 
nately I happened to be at the Palace. 

Mrs. R. Haslam, Had he performed any other 
marriages ? 

Bishop. Happily none; but he had celebrated 
ten funerals and four baptisms. However, these 
did not seem to trouble him in the least, I regret to 
say. It was the wedding alone that roused his 
conscience. 

Mr. R. Haslam. Conscience. 

Mrs. R. Haslam. Of course you sent for the 
police. 

Bishop, I trust and believe that he is now in 
prison. But I did not send for the police. The 
Church has its dignity to maintain against the civil 
judicature in these modern days. Also with so 
much irreligion — shall I say ? — flaunting in the 
very air, She must avoid scandal — particularly 
local scandal. London scandal is less deleterious. 
Accordingly I brought the young man up to town 



52 THE HONEYMOON 

with me, and I put him into a cab for the police- 
station, where he will surrender himself of his own 
free will to the law. I prefer that way. It is, 
perhaps, original; but nowadays we Bishops have 
to be original. 

Mrs, R. Haslam, But do you really suppose he 
has surrendered? 

Bishop, I am sure of it. I cannot pretend to 
your skill in reading character, dear lady, but I 
know a gentleman at sight. 

Mr, R. Haslam. Sight. 

Mrs, R, Haslam, Of course, if one put such a 
story into a novel, it would never be believed. 
That's the worst of real life. 

Bishop. And yet this distressing affair reminded 
me strongly of the false archdeacon in " The 
Woman of Kent." 

Mrs, R. Haslam [pleased'\. Ah! You remem- 
ber my early book ? 

Bishop [protestingly'\. My dear lady! You 
have no more earnest student! And may I add 
that from the first I found that episode of the false 
archdeacon entirely convincing. Its convincing- 
ness was one of the very few points on which I 
shared the opinions of the late Mr. Gladstone. 
" The Woman of Kent " has always been a favour- 
ite of mine among your novels. It must have had 
a vast circulation. 

Mrs» R, Haslam, How many copies, fa- 
ther.? 



ACT II 53 

Mr. R. Haslam \_without looking up from the 
desk^. One hundred and seventy-two thousand. 

Bishop. Wonderful memory ! 

Mrs. R, Haslam. Is it not? He knows more 
about my books than I do myself, far more. 

Bishop. Touching. \_Rising.'] I must go — 
reluctantly. Now what time shall we say for to- 
morrow morning? I am absolutely at your dis- 
posal. 

Mrs. R, Haslam. But do we understand that 
you mean to conduct the ceremony in person? 

Bishop. I do. I wish particularly to show by 
my presence at the altar my sense of what complete 
reparation is due to you — due to you all. 

Mrs. R. Haslam. 1 think we had better consult 
Flora herself. \_Rings bell.'] As you know, my 
original intention was that you should be asked to 
preside at the ceremony. But the young people 
insisted on a simple curate — doubtless from mod- 
esty, my dear Bishop. . . . Would that I had 
been firm in the first instance ! [^Enter Cuthbert, 
back.] 

Mrs. R. Haslam. Is Mrs. Lloyd in the drawing- 
room? 

Cuthbert. Yes, ma'am. 

Mrs. R. Haslam. With Mr. Cedric? 

Cuthbert. No, ma'am. She is alone. 

Mrs. R. Haslam. Will you tell her that I should 
be very much obliged if she could join us here for 
a moment. 



54" THE HONEYMOON 

Cuthbert, Yes, ma'am. ... A representa- 
tive of the " Piccadilly Gazette " has just called, 
ma'am — for information. A male representative. 

Mrs. R. Haslam. "The Piccadilly"! \To 
Mr. R. Haslam.'] The audacity! [To Cuth- 
bert.'] About what? [Cuthbert makes a gesture 
of embarrassment.] You told him to call again 
to-morrow ? 

Cuthbert. No, ma'am. He's waiting. 

Mrs. R, Haslam. Father, would you mind go- 
ing out to him.? [Exit Cuthbert.] I really won- 
der at Cuthbert! [To Bishop.] We have an ab- 
solute rule against seeing journalists after dinner. 
As you know. Bishop, I detest notoriety. Hence 
our rule. And yet Cuthbert allows this man to 
wait ! 

Mr. R. Haslam [going to door]. Cuthbert is 
not himself. Cuthbert has been staggered by the 
events of the day. The strain of pretending that 
nothing in the least unusual has happened must be 
tremendous. Allowance should be made for Cuth- 
bert. How shall I treat this invader? [The 
Bishop dips into the novel.] 

Mrs. R. Haslam. Well, without actually men- 
tioning their review, perhaps you might just indi- 
cate by your manner 

Mr. R. Haslam. These journalists are so ob- 
tuse, but still 

Airs. R. Haslam. I think perhaps if you said 
that we cannot understand how a purely private 



ACT II 55 

matter can interest the public, but that if they 

must know, the Bishop is here in person, and 

[Mr. Reach Haslam nods.'] You think that will 
be judicious? 

Mr, R. Haslam, Quite. [Exit had:.'] 

Bishop ["putting down the hook]. Enthralling! 
{Enter Flora, i..] 

Mrs. R. Haslam. Flora, darling, this is the 
Bishop of Colchester — Mrs. Lloyd, my — er — 
prospective daughter-in-law. 

Flora [stiffly] . My lord. 

Bishop. My dear young lady, I have already 
tried to express to Mrs. Haslam my consternation, 
my shame, at the 

Flora [smiling coldly^. I am sure that is suf- 
ficient. 

Mrs. R. Haslam, The Bishop has come to town 
specially to see us. Flora. In order to guard 
against any possibility of further accident, he has 
kindly suggested that he should officiate himself 
to-morrow morning. 

Flora [to Bishop]. It's really very good of 
you. 

Mrs. R. Haslam [relieved]. Is it not? 

Bishop, At what hour.^ I am entirely at your 
disposal. 

Flora. Oh, any time ! 

Bishop. Noon.'' If you come down by the 
nine-fifteen train 

Flora. That will do perfectly. 



56 THE HONEYMOON 

Mrs. R. Haslam. Where is Cedric, dear? 

Flora. I have no idea. Shall I see? [Exit^ij.^ 

Bishop. The dear child has evidently been much 
upset. 

Mrs. R. Haslam. We all have. 

Bishop. Ravishing creature ! Who was Mr. 
Lloyd? 

Mrs. R. Haslam. He seems to have been on 
the Stock Exchange. He was a Colchester man, 
and had a house just outside the town. 

Bishop. Indeed! I never met him. Did he 
leave a large fortune? 

Mrs. R. Haslam. Oh, no ! The house — not 
much else, I believe. 

Bishop. Probably an admiration for your work 
was the original basis of the — er 

Mrs. R. Haslam. Oh, no ! I was first intro- 
duced to Mrs. Lloyd by Charlie, my second son. 
In fact, quite confidentially. Bishop ; we thought it 
was a match between them. 

Bishop. But heaven decided otherwise? 

Mrs, R. Haslam. Cedric decided otherwise. 
[Enter Mr. R. Haslam, hack.'] 

Mr. R. Haslam. Flora tells me that it is ar- 
ranged for to-morrow. 

Bishop. Yes. I have just been hearing from 
Mrs. Haslam how this beautiful young lady has 
attracted both your sons. 

Mr. R. Haslam. Very catching. Ran through 
the family. 



ACT II 57 

BMop. Ha, ha! \_Seriously^. Ravishing 
creature ! 

Mrs. R. Haslam. Has Charhe come yet? 

Mr. R. Haslam. No. 

Mrs. R. Haslam. If he isn't here soon I fear 
he'll be late for the office. And he's had no sleep 
to-day, poor boy. [To Bishop.l^ Charles is the 
assistant manager of the circulation department of 
the " Daily Sentinel," and his hours are from 9.30 
at night till three in the morning. 

Bishop. How trying! I'm afraid we little 
think when we open our newspaper at breakfast — 
I always read the " Sentinel " — we little think 

what an immense amount of endeavour 

[Enter Charles^ hack.'\ 

Charles. PIullo 1 Mater. No trace of any din- 
ner for me in the dining-room. Here you stick 
me up with the luggage and all the dirty work 

Mrs. R. Haslam. Charles, the Bishop of Col- 
chester. 

Bishop. We have met once before, I think. 
[Shaking hands.J Now, dear Mrs. Haslam [look- 
ing at his watch^, I have half an hour to get to 
Liverpool Street. 

Mrs. R. Haslam. You return to Colchester to- 
night ? 

Bishop. Essential! I have a midnight pro- 
cession of drunkards. You know they call me 
" the drunkards' Bishop." I am proud of the 
title. 



58 THE HONEYMOON 

Mrs, R. Haslam [^shaMng hands^. Exceedingly 
good of you to have come. 

Bishop. Not at all. The obligation is mine for 
your forbearance. Now — may I presume on 
our slight acquaintanceship .f^ If at any time you 
should think of adding a Bishop to your wonder- 
ful gallery of contemporary portraits, and I could 
be of assistance — need I say more ? 

Mrs, R. Haslam. I have already drawn two. 

Bishop, Really ? 
■ Mr. R. Haslam, Suffragans, my dear. 

Bishop, Ah 1 Suffragans ! I thought I could 
not have forgotten two Bishops. Till to-morrow 
then, at noon. Young man, till to-morrow. 
[Shakes hands with Charles.^ 

Mrs, R, Haslam [as Bishop and Mr. R. Haslam 
go out^. Father, would you mind speaking firmly 
to CUthbert about Charlie's dinner? [Exeunt 
Bishop and Mr. Reach Haslam, hacTc.^ 

Charles, Why the Bishop? 

Mrs. R. Haslam, He came up specially to ar- 
range for to-morrow. Certainly it was the least he 
could do. 

Charles, To-morrow .f* 

Mrs, R, Haslam, The wedding. 

Charles, Oh, yes, of course, I was forget- 
ting. 

Mrs. R. Haslam. Really, Charlie, 3^ou get more 
and more absent-minded as you grow older. I'm 
not sorry Cedric won't let you meddle with aero- 



ACT II 59 

planes. The wedding will be at noon to-morrow. 
We go down by the nine-fifteen. 

Charles. With all that luggage again ! It 
would have been simpler to leave it where it was. 
Seven trunks ! What with cabs, tips, fares, excess, 
and a special omnibus, somebody owes me one 
pound thirteen, not to speak of compensation for 
the total loss of tea, dinner, and temper. 

Mrs. R. Haslam. Well, you are always enthusi- 
astic about Flora's clothes. We acted for the best. 
We couldn't tell exactly what would happen. For- 
tunately the Bishop saw at once that it was his duty 
to take things in hand himself. 

Charles. I should say that what the Bishop 
saw was a chance of getting himself into one of 
your books, mater. 

Mrs. R. Haslam. That also is possible. 

Charles [imitating the Bishop^. "Need I say 
more ? " What a cuckoo ! 

Mrs. R. Haslam. Charles ! [Enter Cedric, l.] 

Cedric. Has that dashed Bishop actually de- 
parted.'' I began to think he was going to spend 
the night here. 

Mrs. R. Haslam. Cedric ! I am ready to make 
great allowances, but I really do not know what 
has come over my sons. 

Cedric. Sorry, mother. [To Charles.'\ Hello ! 
You back? 

Mrs. R. Haslam, Flora's told you it's all ar- 
ranged for noon to-morrow .^^ 



60 THE HONEYMOON 

Cedric, No. Haven't seen her. 

Mrs. R, Haslam. Well, it is. And now, my 
boys, you can't stay any longer in your mother's 
study. My article for " Harper's " must abso- 
lutely be finished to-night. Your father and I had 
been expecting a placid afternoon and evening of 
work. 

Charles. By the way, Rick. About that Klop- 
stock business. Of course you've seen the papers. 
[Cedric nods.l 

Mrs. R. Haslam. Oh, yes. I quite intended 
to mention that, Cedric ; but really one has had 
so many things to think about — and my article, 
too I How very awkward it is, isn't it ? 

Charles. I met one of our johnnies at Liver- 
pool Street, and he was a little excited about it. 
And I may inform you it isn't often our johnnies 
do get excited. 

Cedric, Oh! [Sits down on sofa.l 

Charles, He told me they'd received a later wire 
at the office, from Breslau, saying that Klopstock 
has had a private trial over a mountain near there 
— I forget the name — and done it, my boy ! 
Done it on his head ! 

Cedric, Has he, indeed? 

Charles. And he'll be over here in a week or ten 
days, it seems. They want to know at the office 
exactly what you're going to do. So I told the 
Johnnie I should be seeing you to-night, and I'd 
bring an official message. I had to explain to him 



ACT II 61 

a bit what had happened — couldn't help it. I 
suppose you'll be forced to cut the honeymoon next 
week and begin to get things into shape at once. 

Mrs. R. Haslam. It is annoying for you, dear, 
and for Flora, too ! 

Cedric. I shan't do any such thing. 

Charles. You surely won't let him 

Cedric. I shan't do anything for a full month. 

Charles. Do you mean to say you'll let Klop- 
stock get in first? 

Cedric. If Klopstock chooses to try during my 
honeymoon, I can't help that, can I? Let some- 
body else have a shot. I'm not the only aviator in 
England, confound it! 

Mrs. R. Haslam. Cedric! 

Charles. You're the only aviator in England 
that can get in front of Klopstock over Snowdon. 

Cedric. I can't help that. 

Mrs. R. Haslam. But, Cedric — surely your 
duty 

Cedric. Oh I d [^stopping himself. Enter 

Flora. As soon as she perceives Cedric, who has 
been hidden from her by the screen, she makes 
as if to leave the room again.~\ 

Mrs, R, Haslam [recalling her'\. Flora. 

Flora [with false simplicity~\. So you are 
back, Charlie. What an angel you've been to 
worry yourself with all that big luggage. 

Charlie. Oh ! That's all right [surveying 
her^. I see you had at least one frock in the port- 



62 THE HONEYMOON 

manteau. We were just discussing the Snowdon 
flight. So you two have decided 

Flora, No, we really settled nothing. Cedric 
alone settles that, of course. All questions relat- 
ing to aeroplanes should be addressed to the head 
of the flying department and not to the firm. 

Cedric [rising, with restrained savageness^. I 
tell you I shall do nothing whatever for a full 
month. [Exit, l.] 

Charles [trying to breah the extreme awk- 
wardness caused by Cedric^s behaviour, in a banter- 
ing but affectionate tone^, I suspect the fact is 
that the bones of a husband are doubly precious in 
her sight. 

Mrs, R, Haslam, But you don't really think 
there is any special danger, do you, Flora dear? 

Flora, Of course not. If I wasn't convinced 
that Cedric in his aeroplane is a great deal safer 
than Charlie in a motor-car, or Paderewski at the 
end of a concert, or a cabinet minister at a public 
meeting, should I have gone as far as marrying 
him? 

Mrs. R, Haslam. Then, seeing how serious it 
is for the country, why 

Flora, My dear, you must ask Cedric. I 
don't interfere with business. [Enter Cuthbert, 
back.^ 

Cuthbert. A Mr. Frampington, to see the 
Bishop, ma'am. I told him his Grace had gone, 
and now he asks to see either you or Mr. Haslam. 



ACT II 63 

Mrs. R. Hasla/m. Mr. Frampington ? Where 
is your master? 

Cuthbert, I believe he's in the kitchen at the 
moment, ma'am. 

Mrs. R. Haslam. Frampington? 

Charles. Wasn't that the name of our young 
hopeful this morning? 

Flora [bright ening again]. The imitation cu- 
rate ? Of course it was ! 

Mrs. R. Haslam. But surely 

Cuthbert. He bears no resemblance to a curate, 
ma'am. 

Flora. Then it is he ! Oh ! if it is, do let's see 
him! In private life he must be extremely inter- 
esting. [To Cuthbert.] Show him in, will you, 
please? [^Exit Cuthbert.] 

Mrs. R. Haslam. Flora — really I don't know 
what's come over you all ! 

Flora. It seems to me that the curate has come 
over us all. [Enter Cuthbert , and Frampington in 
tourist attire. Exit Cuthbert.] 

Frampington [in a quite natural, easy tone]. 
We meet again. I'm so sorry to disturb you, Mrs. 
Haslam, but I'm in a slight difficulty, and I hoped 
to find the Bishop here. 

Mrs. R. Haslam. The Bishop left a few min- 
utes ago. 

Flora. Won't you sit down? [Outraged 
glance from Mrs. R. Haslam. Frampington sits 



64i THE HONEYMOON 

down calmly J\ May one inquire what this slight 
difficulty is? 

Frampington [after a little Jiesitatiori]. I 
suppose the Bishop has explained everything? 

Mrs. R, Haslam. So far as everything is capa- 
ble of explanation, yes. 

Frampington. I'm glad of that. It makes the 
situation so much easier. No doubt the Bishop 
gave you all the messages of apology and regret 
that I asked him to deliver on my behalf. 

Flora \to Mrs. Reach Haslam']. Did he? 

Mrs. R. Haslam. No. He only spoke for him- 
self. 

Frampington. That was not nice of him. 

Mrs. R. Haslam. He told us you were a gen- 
tleman 

Frampington. Generous ! 

Mrs. R. Haslam. And that you had promised 
to go to the police-station and give yourself up of 
your own accord. 

Frampington. Quite correct. And as soon as 
I'd got something to eat I took a cab and went to 
Vine Street. Well, they refused to take me in. 

Mrs. R. Haslam. Refused to take you in! 

Frampington. Wouldn't even take my name. 

Mrs. R. Haslam. But did you tell them clearly 
what you'd done — your crime ? 

Frampington. I was most explicit. 

Flora. I suppose it is a crime. 

Frampington. Oh, yes ! It's a crime all right. 



ACT II 65 

As far as the Bishop and I could make out, it 
means anything up to three years ; but I must say 
the episcopal library at Colchester isn't very strong 
in criminal law. It seems to deal chiefly with vege- 
tarianism and drunkenness. 

Mrs, R. Haslam [hrusJiing all this aside^. I 
may be dull, Mr. 

F ramping ton. Frampington. 

Mrs. R. Haslam. But I don't yet understand 
why you've come here. 

Flora. Mr. Frampington was going to explain 
how it was the police-station was so inhospitable. 

Frampington. The Inspector wouldn't believe 
my story. He thought I was a practical joker. 

Flora. And don't you think you are? 

Frampington \^ judicially']. Depends how one 
looks at it. I feel sure I should have been more 
convincing if I hadn't changed my clothes. But 
the Bishop insisted on me doing that, and so I put 
on the only suit I had. And then I found I'd 
chosen a bad night. Owing to these vivisection 
riots, they were doing a big business in medical 
students at Vine Street. In fact, my suspicion 
is that all their cells were engaged. And there's 
another thing — I don't think I ought to have gone 
to Vine Street. Vine Street speciahses in what you 
may call West End cases — pocket-picking, confi- 
dence tricks, murder, aristocratic inebriety, and so 
on. It runs in a groove. But then Vine Street 
was the only police-station that I was personally 



66 THE HONEYMOON 

acquainted with — a youthful souvenir of Boatrace 
night — and so I went there. It was a mistake. 

Mrs. R, Haslam, I'm afraid you didn't insist. 

Frampington. Yes. I did. I insisted so 
much that at last the Inspector got cross and said 
that if I didn't clear he should lock me up. 

Mrs. R. Haslam. And wasn't that enough for 
you, my man? 

Frampington [^starting slightly at the appel- 
lation^. It was too much. I naturally wanted to 
be locked up for the right thing. The truth is the 
Inspector thought I was drunk — probably be- 
cause I was so calm. One of the constables said I 

— er — smelt of drink. 

Mrs. R. Haslam. And did you? 

Frampington. Certainly not. Beyond half-a- 
pint of Bordeaux at the Ritz, I assure you I had 
had nothing whatever. 

Flora. The Ritz? 

Frampington. Why not, madam? 

Flora. As you say, why not 1 

Frampington. It was handy for Vine Street, 
and this being my last night of freedom, you see 

As a novelist, Mrs. Haslam, you will un- 
derstand I had a natural desire to do myself well. 

Mrs. R. Haslam. The only thing I understand 
is that you seem to have come here for the pleasure 
of hearing yourself talk. 

Frampington [rising simply^. I beg your 
pardon. I came here to ask the Bishop to accom- 



ACT II 67 

pany me to the police-station as corroborative evi- 
dence. When jour servant told me he wasn't here, 
the Idea occurred to me that perhaps some member 
of your family wouldn't mind going with me — 
just to Identify me. 

Mrs. R. Haslam. Charlie, you'd better go on 
your way to the office. 

Charles. That's all very well, but 

Frampington. It would be very good of you. 
But I really think we ought to try another police- 
station. Bow Street would be better — more clas- 
sical — if It isn't too much off your beat. 

Flora. Why don't you go to Liverpool Street? 

Frampvngton. But Liverpool Street is not a 
police-station. 

Flora. No. But it's a railway station. Col- 
chester isn't the only place it leads to. There's 

Harwich, for instance, the continent 

[Smiles.^ 

Mrs. R. Haslam [m a low 'voice~\. Really, 
Flora ! Christianity can be carried too far. 

Frampington \^to Flora^. I should be caught. 
And, honestly, I prefer the new experience which 
lies before me. It can't last long. And new ex- 
periences are my hobby. 

Flora. But this is serious. You mayn't get a 
long sentence, but when you're discharged from 
prison you'll be a social outcast. 

Frampvngton. Oh, no, I shan't. In two years 
time I come into twenty thousand pounds. 



68 THE HONEYMOON 

Flora. I see. 

Frampmgton [^to Charles^. May I count on 
your help? [Bowing adieu to Mrs. R. Haslam.^ 
Madam. [To Flora.^ Mrs. Lloyd, your sym- 
pathy is very remarkable, and I appreciate it. 
Please accept my sincerest apologies for any tem- 
porary inconvenience I may have caused you. I 
assure you, this morning I didn't realise until aft- 
erwards the awful seriousness of what I'd done. 

Flora, Neither did I. Well, good luck ! 
[Shakes hands with him to the deep astonishment 
of Mrs, Reach Haslam. Frampington goes to- 
wards door. Charles uncertainly goes in the same 
direction, then stops.'] 

Charles [to Frampington]. Just wait in the 
hall a moment, will you? 

Frampington, Certainly. [Exit back.] 

Mrs, R. Haslam [turning to Flora]. Well, 
it's not often that I'm left speechless 

Charles, Look here, mater. You send me off 
with this lunatic, but it doesn't seem to have oc- 
curred to you that I've had no dinner. I haven't 
even had time to wash. 

Mrs, R. Haslam [before he has finished]. 
Why did you shake hands with him, dear? You 
were almost effusive. 

Flora. I felt almost effusive. 

Charles, But don't you think he's off his nut? 

Flora, Whatever he is, he's saved me from 
something that's rather awful to think about. 



ACT II 69 

Mrs. R. Haslam. He's what? 

Flora. I may as well tell you now — Cedric and 
I aren't going to get married to-morrow. 

Mrs, R. Haslam. Not going to [^stopsl. 

But you've just arranged with the Bishop t 

Flora. I know. But that was simply my cow- 
ardice. The truth is I hadn't the heart to tell him. 
I felt that we could express ourselves more com- 
fortably in a telegram than by word of mouth. 

Mrs. R, Haslam, We! But — but what's 
wrong with to-morrow, Flora ? 

Flora. Nothing. It's no worse than any other 
day. Only we aren't going to get married at all. 

Mrs. R. Haslam. But you are married — prac- 
tically. I mean 

Flora [^shakes her }iead\. Not even theoret- 
ically. 

Mrs. R. Haslam [with a certain dignified ap- 
peal^. Flora, I'm not as young as you are. I'm 
a hard working woman. My work is terribly in 
arrear. But I've never broken a contract yet, and 
I must finish to-night that article of mine for 
" Harper's " on " A Remedy for the Decline of the 
Birthrate in London Society." The subject is del- 
icate for a popular magazine, and I need to have 
my mind free. May I beg you to tell me exactly 
what you mean, without being too witty .f* 

Flora. I'm really very sorry. Very sorry. If 
I'm witty, I honestly assure you it's an oversight. 
All I can tell you is that Cedric and I have had 



70 THE HONEYMOON 

an extremely serious difference of opinion, on a 
vital matter, and there's no hope of our views be- 
ing reconciled, and so we aren't going to get mar- 
ried. 

Charles. Not really ! 

Flora. Yes. 

Mrs. R, Haslam [half to herself]. And this 
is all you can find to do, to help me with my arti- 
cle! [To Flora.] I suppose I must imitate your 
calmness. 

Flora {winningly]. Oh! please do. 

Mrs. R. Haslam. When did you and Cedric 
settle this.? 

Flora. We haven't settled it. Have we had 
a moment alone together since we left Pixton.^^ 
Fve settled it. One person can settle these things. 

Mrs. R, Haslam. Do you mean to say that 
Cedric doesn't know what you're telling me? 

Flora. Not unless he's listening behind the 
door. I inform you before anyone. 

Mrs. R. Haslam. Of course father and I both 
noticed that you were far from being yourselves. 
But we put it down to the shock and disappoint- 
ment. 

Flora. To the Frampington accident.? Oh, 
no ! A Frampington accident might happen to 
any unmarried couple. I'm afraid our gloom was 
caused by nothing but a terrible fear. 

Mrs. R. Haslam. Terrible fear? 

Flora. Terrible fear lest neither of us would 



ACT II 71 

have the audacity to profit by Mr. Frampington's 
revelation. 

Mrs. R, Haslam. Audacity ! Your audacity 
astounds me. 

Flora, Yes, it rather startles even me. Now, 
will you mind telling Cedric? 

Mrs. R. Haslam, I! [Looks at her. Then 
exit, L.] 

Flora. Are you also struck dumb? 

Charles. I suppose the kick-up was about — 
Snowdon versus honeymoon. 

Flora. Charlie, how penetrating you are, really ! 
And you put it in a nutshell. 

Charles, Well, when we burst into that hotel 
this morning, I could have sworn something was 
wrong. Don't you remember I enquired what was 
the matter? And just now when I was asking 
Rick what he meant to do, it didn't want any 
very powerful penetration to see that there must 
have been a hades of a rumpus between him and 
you. 

Flora [puzzlingly^. Oh! Didn't it? And 
what's your opinion? Do you think Snowdon 
ought to win? 

Charles, Well, it's fiendishly important. 

Flora. I know. But don't you think a honey- 
moon's somehow more important? 

Charles. Some honeymoons might be. 

Flora. What should you have done in Cedric's 
place ? 



72 THE HONEYMOON 

Charles, But look here, Flo, he has given way, 
you know. 

Flora, Yes, but against his judgment. 

Charles. Well, he couldn't help that. 

Flora. You're wrong, Charlie. 

Charles. Am I? 

Flora. Couldn't help it? If Cedric can't con- 
trol his judgment better than that, in a serious 
matter, at the very start of the marriage, so much 
the worse for him and for me. 

Charles. Perhaps so. 

Flora. Charlie, there are some things that you 
understand better than Cedric. 

Charles. That's what I always say, but no one 
believes me. 

Flora. It's true. Do you know I'm simply 
shaking.? 

Charles, Fright? \_Flora nods.l^ I can be- 
lieve you are, but nobody'd guess it. [^Half-enter 
Cedric, l..] 

Cedric [stopping at half-opened door. To 
somebody outside the roo7n\. What's that you 
say? [Exit again, leaving door ajar.^ 

Flora. You'd better go. Don't forget the imi- 
tation curate's waiting for you. 

Charles. Frizzle the imitation curate. 

Flora. You'll be in the way here — don't you 
see? 

Charles. But you're sending me off just at 



ACT II 73 

the interesting part. And you'll all be gone to 
bed before I get back from the office. 

Flora. Yes, but I hope we shall all still be alive 
to-morrow. Now — there's a dear, before Cedric 
comes. 

Charles. But — is it really serious ? [Flora 
nods.^ Then we shan't have to go to Colchester 
to-morrow.^ [Flora shakes her head.'\ Nor any 
other day.'' [Flora shakes her head. Charles 
moves reluctantly towards the door.'\ Well, I 
can't realise it, and that's flat. I say 

Flora. Yes ? 

Charles. Would you mind telling father or 
mother to see that my supper is set for me in the 
garden to-night? And something solid, too! 
[Enter Cedric.'] 

Flora. I will. [Exit Charles^ hack.'] 

Flora. I see your mother's told you. Well, 
what can I say to you.? 

Cedric [sitting down]. You might congratu- 
late me on the way I'm keeping calm under stress. 

Flora. But why do you come in like this and 
look at me like this.? 

Cedric. Idle curiosity ! Having received the 
news from the mater, I was absurdly curious to 
hear any remarks you might have to make to me. 
So I came in — like this. 

Flora. Cedric, I did it the best way I could. 
I thought I would imitate the blandness of the 



74» THE HONEYMOON 

sham curate. You haven't seen him to-night, but 
I may tell you he carries blandness further than 
it has ever been carried before. ... I was 
afraid if I didn't do it at once it might never be 
done. I could see the time going on and going on, 
and me preparing to do this thing in a nice, 
kind, tactful, proper way, exactly as it should be 
done — and never doing it — never beginning to 
do it ! And at last finding myself at Colchester to- 
morrow, and hypnotised by your mother and the 
Bishop. Cedric, I'm sure it's a mistake to prepare 
to do a thing like this, leading up to it, and so on. 
The best plan is to let it go off with a frightful 
hang, anyhow, as I've done ! Then the worst hap- 
pens at the start instead of at the finish. 

Cedric. I quite see the argument. 

Flora [with a nod of the head towards the door, 
l]. You've told her the reason? 

Cedric. She'd half guessed it. I made it seem 
as plausible as I could, in my taciturn way. But 
you know it would need a course of lectures to ex- 
plain it properly. 

Flora. I suppose I ought to depart hence. 
Where is your mother now? 

Cedric. She's briefly stating the facts to the 
head of the family. 

Flora. Cedric, don't you feel as if I'd lifted an 
enormous weight off your chest ? Candidly ! 

Cedric. No; but I feel as if we'd been sitting 
all day in a stuffy railway carriage with a window 



ACT II 75 

that wouldn't open, and there'd been a collision 
that had pitched us clean through it. I've got 
oxygen, but I'm dashed if I can feel my legs. 

Flora, My dear Cedric, if you were seriously 
injured you couldn't talk like that. [Enter y l., 
during the last words^ Mrs. Reach Haslam and 
Mr. Reach Haslam, very solemn.^ 

Mrs. R. Haslam. Has Charlie gone? 

Flora. Yes. By the way, he wants his supper 
set in the garden — he asked me to tell you. 

Mrs. R. Haslam. Thank you. 

Flora. Something solid, he said. 

Mrs. R. Haslam [sitting downl. Cedric, I 
wish your father to hear for himself exactly what 
the situation is. I naturally turn to him and leave 
everything to him. . . . Now, father. 

Mr. R. Haslam. So far as I've gathered, there 
seems to be some slight difficulty as to dates. To- 
day's the 20th — to-morrow will be the 21st [look- 
ing at date calendar^. Yes, the 21st. Flora 
thinks the honeymoon ought to end on the 21st 
prox., whereas Cedric thinks the honeymoon ought 
to end in about ten days' time, say 1st prox. The 
difference of opinion [ironical stress^ on this 
highly important matter, this fundamental matter, 
is final. Hence Flora has absolutely decided to 
break off the marriage. 

Flora. That's it. 

Mr. R. Haslam. Nothing could be simpler. 

Mrs. R. Haslam. Flora, how can you sit there 



76 THE HONEYMOON 

and trifle with our deepest feelings, in this utterly 
cynical manner? 

Flora [persuasively^^. I hope we aren't going 
to converse as if we were characters in a powerful 
novel of modern society. This is real life, you 
know, let's talk as if we were real people — do you 
mind ? 

Mrs. R. Haslam, Personally, I am not aware 
of being unreal. But you seem to be unaware that 
you are playing with tragic things. 

Flora. As I told Cedric in the first act 

Mrs, R, Haslam {^staggered beyond measure^. 
In the first act ! 

Flora, My dear. I'm only trying to fall in 
with your wish to turn this affair into a tragedy. 
If it is a tragedy, the first act occurred this morn- 
ing. As I told Cedric this morning, we've stum- 
bled across a question of vital principle. Is our 
marriage to be the most important thing in our 
lives, or isn't it? If it is, then nothing less than 
an earthquake could possibly disturb the honey- 
moon, because I suppose you'll admit the honey- 
moon is the most urgent part of matrimony. If 
our marriage is not to be the most important thing 
in our lives — all right ! That's a point of view 
that I can understand ; only — I don't want to get 
married. And I won't ! [Pause. ^ 

Mrs. R, Haslam, Cedric, why don't you speak? 

Cedric, Nothing to say. 

Mrs, R, Haslam. Your silence is excessive. 



ACT II 77 

Flora [still persuasively^. We solemnly ar- 
range our honeymoon. Then Cedric happens to 
see a newspaper and he as good as says, " Here's 
something more important than our honeymoon. 
Our honeymoon must give way to this." And after 
all, this terrific something is nothing whatever but 
a purely business matter — something to do with 
the works. 

Mrs, R. Haslam, Something to do with Eng- 
land, with Cedric's career, with Cedric's duty. 

Flora [turning to Mr, Reach Haslam~\. Sup- 
posing Cedric one day said he couldn't attend his 
father's funeral because his career called him else- 
where, because England wanted him, what should 
you say.? 

Mr. R. Haslam. I probably shouldn't open my 
mouth. 

Mrs, R. Haslam. A funeral is different 

Flora, It is. But I can't help thinking that 
if circumstances oughtn't to prevent a man from 
going to a funeral, they oughtn't to prevent him 
from going to his own honeymoon. 

Cedric. I hope you won't lose sight of the fact 
that I gave way to you absolutely about five hours 
ago. 

Mr. R. Haslam, That's the trouble. 

Mrs. R. Haslam, Father! 

Mr, R. Haslam. Yes, that's the trouble, "be- 
cause his giving way to her is a proof that he 
didn't share her views. What Flora objects to in 



78 THE HONEYMOON 

Cedric is not what he does, but what he thinks. 
She seems to me to have no use for free-thinking 
in a husband. 

Flora. I won't argue any further, 

Mrs, R. Haslam. But why not? Surely that is 
unreasonable. 

Flora. Because in an argument I always begin 
rather well, but in the end I'm apt to get beaten. 
So I just stop, especially when I know I'm right. 
I'm a short distance woman. All I say is — can 
you imagine me — me, running off to Ostend with 
a man who had sacrificed his career, and Snowdon, 
and all England, unwillingly, in order to go . . . 
what gay little suppers we should have together ! 

Mrs. R, Haslam. One day, perhaps when it's 
too late, you'll realise that a wife's first duty, and 
therefore her greatest joy, is to help her husband. 
I know / realised it, at once. When I was married. 
Reach was only earning three hundred a year; he 
was a solicitor's managing clerk — weren't you, 
father? I said to myself that I ought to try to 
help him, and so I began to write. And as a wife, 
I've been doing my best to help him ever since. 
After ten years I thought it advisable for him to 
give up the law. How much did I pay income-tax 
on last year, dear? 

Mr. R. Haslam. Nineteen thousand four hun- 
dred pounds. 

Mrs. R. Haslam. I don't boast, but you see 
what comes of trying to do one's wifely duty I 



ACT II 79 

Flora, Some women can do nothing but earn 
money. [Cedric hegms playing mechanically with 
an object on the tahle~\. I can only spend it. 
Two different talents ! If I had a hundred pounds 
to throw away at this moment, I know what I 

should spend it on [^4 pause. She looks 

round; exertmg all her wayward charm.^ Come, 
why doesn't some one ask me what I should spend 
it on? 

Mrs, R. Haslam [gloomily perfunctory^. What 
should you spend it on? 

Flora, I should erect a statue to Mr. Framp- 
ington. It would be a good thing if there were a 
few more Frampingtons about, just to give people 
who've got as far as the vestry a chance of recon- 
sidering their position. 

Mrs, R, Haslam, Upon my word. Flora [cut- 
tingly^, one would say, from your sparkling wit, 
that you were quite in high spirits over the situa- 
tion. 

Flora, Well, my dear, in one way I could cry 
my eyes out, but in another I am rather uplifted 
when I think of what Mr. Frampington has saved 
us from. 

Mrs. R, Haslam, Saved you from! [Very 
courteously and quietly.^ Really, I should have 
thought that any woman would have been more 
than a little flattered at the prospect of marrying 
into the Haslam family, of being the wife of Cedric. 
No house in London is more sought after than 



80 THE HONEYMOON 

ours. It isn't too much to say that Cedric is now 

one of the most celebrated men in England 

Cedric \^crossly^. Look here, mater 



[He keeps his head down; he is still plaining with 
the object on the table.^ 

Mr, R. Haslam \^sharply^ . Cedric ! \_Mrs. 
Reach Haslam looks at her husband, as if expect- 
ing him majestically to reprove his son.^ I wish 
you'd play with something else for a change. 

Mrs. R, Haslam. I speak kindly, but I speak 
plainly, and I'm not ashamed of doing so. I say 
one of the most celebrated men in England. In- 
deed, it wouldn't surprise me to learn that among 
the masses of the people Cedric is better known 
even than I am myself. 

Cedric. Mater, I'm off! 

Mr. R. Haslam [severely to himl^. You'll 
kindly stay where you are. There are times when 
one ought to be frank. [Still very courteously 
and quietly to Flora.~\ You know I was not at 
first altogether in favour of this marriage — not 
what could be described as uncontrollably enthusi- 
astic about it. I have appreciated your excellent 
qualities, but 

Flora [smiling^. Please don't expose me. 
Comfort yourself with the thought of what Mr. 
Frampington has saved you from. [Mr. Reach 
Haslam rises softly and goes towards door, back.^ 

Mrs. R, Haslam, Where are you going, fa- 
ther.? 



ACT II 81 

Mr. R. Haslam. I thought I'd just make sure 
about CharHe's supper, before it sHpped my mem- 
ory. [Exit hack.^ 

Mrs. R. Haslam [turning to Flora again^ 
pained^. You are forgetthig the terrible scandal 
that will ensue if you persist in your present course, 
dear Flora. The honeymoon actually begun ! and 
then — this bombshell ! How shall we break it to 
the Bishop? How can I ever look the Bishop in 
the face again ! How can I ever look anybody 
in the face again? . . . To-day of all days, 
when my new book has just come out ! And with 
my article to finish, on the decline of the birthrate 
among the well-to-do classes ! . . . How can 
we explain to people that the marriage is broken 
off when there's certain to be an account of the 
wedding in every paper to-morrow morning? 

Flora, That, at any rate, isn't my fault. By- 
the-way, how did that paragraph get into the 
*' Piccadilly Gazette"? [Mischievously.^ I sup- 
pose it must have slipped in while you were looking 
the other way. 

Mrs, R, Haslam [with controlled acerbity^. 
When you begin to figure prominently in the life 
of your country. Flora, you'll understand, per- 
haps, a little better than you do now that news- 
paper reporters, whatever their sex, simply will not 
be denied. They reside on the doorstep. One 
cannot be rude. At least I can't. 

Flora, I hope I never shall figure prominently 



80 THE HONEYMOON 

in the life of my country. But I want to figure 
prominently in the life of my husband. 

Mrs. R. Haslam, The newspapers 

Cedric. Excuse me, mater, but isn't this right 
off the point .f* 

Mrs, R, Haslam [fo herself]. And I was look- 
ing forward to a quiet half hour with my press- 
cuttings! [Silence, Enter Mr, Reach Haslam 
cautiously, hack.] 

Mr, R, Haslam [^mildly cheerful]. Well, where 
have you got to.? 

Flora, I think we're gradually working back 
again to the importance of marriage in the life of 
the husband. 

Mr. R, Haslam, That's better ! That's better. 
[Sits,] 

Mrs, R, Haslam, Flora, you'll pardon me of- 
fering my opinion, as an experienced student of 
human nature, but when you say " the importance 
of marriage," I think you really mean your own 
individual importance. Personal vanity is very 
misleading. 

Flora. Oh ! It is. 

Mrs. R. Haslam, Your attitude might be more 
defensible if you were a different kind of woman. 
I don't say it would be more defensible, but it 
might be. 

Cedric, Oh, look here, mater 

Mrs. R, Haslam, Cedric, may I venture to 
converse in my own study? 



ACT II 83 

Flora [to Cedric^. Don't you understand that 
this is not your act? [Rising. ~\ How a different 
kind of a woman? 

Mrs. R, Haslam [quietly courteous^, I mean, 
if you brought more to the marriage. 

Flora, Money? I'm not rich, but you see I'm 
rich enough to despise ten thousand pounds. 

Mrs, R, Haslam [protesting^. Flora! Please 
don't mention such a thing ! Have I mentioned 
it? I think we Haslams are as capable as any- 
body of despising ten thousand pounds. [Very 
ki/ndly.~\ No, I mean, if you had more to show in 
the way of — shall I say ? -:— striking personal tal- 
ent. You can have no role except that of wife, 
purely social and domestic. And yet your attitude 
seems somehow to claim the privileges of a — a 
great singer, or a great pianist, or 

Flora, A great novelist? 

Mrs, R, Haslam [imperturbable']. No, no. I 
was thinking more of public performers. 
Genius. ... If you had genius, talents. 
Mind, I'm not blaming you for not having them. 
I make no reflection whatever. ... Of course 
you are good, I hope, and you're beautiful. 

Flora. So they say. 

Mrs. R. Haslam, But beauty is a mere gift — 
from heaven. 

Flora, My dear, what's the difference between 
a talent, and a gift from heaven? I remember 
not very long since you were really quite annoyed 



84 THE HONEYMOON 

because the " Saturday Review," I think it was, re- 
ferred to you as " Mrs. Reach Haslam, the tal- 
ented novehst." Whereas you are constantly be- 
ing called the " gifted novelist," and you like it. 
\_She begins to sit down.^ 

Mr, R. Haslam. Pardon me. " Like " is too 
strong a word. My wife prefers to be mentioned 
as " Mrs. Reach Haslam," simply — don't you, 
dear.f* One doesn't expect to read in the papers 
" Mr. Balfour, the talented statesman," " Lord 
Northcliffe, the talented statesman." One expects 
only " Mr. Balfour," " Lord Northcliffe." 

Mrs. R. Haslam [waving him graciously into 
silence. To Flora^. I willingly admit, dear, that 
in its origin a talent — like mine, if you insist — 
is a gift from heaven. But what years of study 
are necessary to perfect it ! Whereas mere beauty, 
charm 

Flora [having sat down, and -ftnally arranged 
her fan and shawl, etc.^. It's taken me at least 
seven years of intense study to learn to sit down 
like that — and in another two years I shall do it 
even better. [With a delightful smile.~\ 

Mrs. R. Haslam [graciously lenient^. But seri- 
ously 

Flora, Seriously? [Stopping, in a different 
tone.~\ My dear, did the Bishop say anything 
when I left the room.? 

Mrs. R. Haslam, Say anything! About what? 

Flora. About me. 



ACT II 85 

Mr. R. Haslam. He remarked that you were 
a ravishing creature. 

Flora. Jokingly ? 

Mr, R, Haslam. No. He was quite serious. 

Flora, That's just it. If it was only frivolous, 
empty-headed boys who were serious about it, but 
it isn't. The most high-minded, middle-aged men 
are serious about it. Why, even chauffeurs and 
policemen are serious about it. There must be 
something in it. Wherever I go people are more 
serious about me than about anybody else — even 
if singers and pianists happen to be present. If I 
arrive late at the theatres I'm the play for at least 
two minutes. And I assure you in the streets it 
often occurs that men I don't know hurry after 
me very seriously about it — even if I'm veiled. 
And yet you and I have the same dressmaker ! It's 
always been like that — ever since my first mar- 
riage. And it's getting more and more marked. I 
don't mind telling you, my dear, that my own 
secret view of my importance is perhaps as modest 
as yours is of yours — but what can you and I 
do against the universal opinion? I've begun to 
bow before the storm. It's the wisest course. 
You talk about what I bring to the marriage 
['proudly~\. I bring to the marriage the gift of 
heaven, cultivated by the labour of a lifetime, and, 
as to its value, there's only one estimate, except 
yours [with a catch in her voice'\ — and Cedrlc's ! 
Cedric puts an aeroplane higher. 



86 THE HONEYMOON 



Cedric. I beg your pardon 



Flora [with emotion] . Yes, you do ! Yes, you 
do ! When there came a conflict between my 
honeymoon and your aeroplane, you decided in- 
stantly against the honeymoon, before I'd even 
been asked ! You didn't even consult me. 

Cedric. Aeroplane ! Aeroplane [ You keep on 
saying aeroplane, but 

Flora [calmer]. Listen. I know you've given 
way. I know you've off*ered not to sacrifice the 
honeymoon, but don't you really think still in your 
own mind that the honeymoon ought to be sacri- 
ficed? [Cedric does not answer — pause.] You 
know perfectly well it's a relief to you that I've 
cried off! Come, honestly now? 

Mr, R. Haslam [warningly, under his breath]. 
Not too honestly. 

Cedric [quietly]. Yes, I do think part of the 
honeymoon ought to be sacrificed. And I never 
dreamed that you would think otherwise. It's a 
difference of opinion that simply staggers me. It 
doesn't only stagger me — it frightens me. It 
makes one reflect, you know. 

Flora, Then you are relieved? You're grate- 
ful. 

Cedric [moved and stammering]. I ought to 
be. Of course you're the only person who could 
cry off^. 

Flora. What do you mean? 

Cedric. Some things a man can't do. 



ACT II m 

Flora, Do you sit there and say that if I 
hadn't cut the knot, you'd have gone on, and you'd 
have let me go on, with a marriage you didn't 
believe in? Because you're a man, and there are 
some things a man can't do ! Can't a man show 
as much pluck as a woman? That does settle it! 
[Controlling herself.^ 

Mrs. R. Haslam, Flora, you'll regret you've 
thrown Cedric over. You'll certainly want to 
come back to him. 

Flora [disdainfullyl. Shall I! [FoZ^f^Z^/.] 
Good-night, Mrs. Haslam. 

Mrs. R, Haslam. But where are you going? 

Flora. I don't know. How can I stay here? 
My official connection with this house is ended. I 
shall go to a hotel. Good-night. So many 
thanks ! 

Mrs. R. Haslam [rising and going to her; firm- 
ly^. I'm sure you'll oblige me by not scandalising 
the servants. You can choose a hotel to-morrow 
morning. I'll go with you to your room, if I may. 
All your trunks will be up there by this time. 
[Exeunt Flora, submissive, and Mrs. Reach Has- 
lam, back, Mr, Reach Haslam slowly prepares 
for work at desk.'\ 

Cedric. I'm off into the garden. [Pulls out 
his cigarette case. Exit, l.] 

Mr. R. Haslam [aside as Cedric goes~\. Nin- 
compoop! [Enter Mrs. Reach Haslam.'] 

Mrs, R, Haslam. Dear, before I go on with 



88 THE HONEYMOON 

that article, I should like to make a few notes on 
Flora's demeanour, while the thing's fresh in my 
mind. One never knows when that kind of stuff 
won't come in useful. 

Mrs, R. Haslam, Where's the boy.^^ 
Mr. R. Haslam, In the garden. [Half to him- 
self.'] Of all places ! 

Mrs. R. Haslam [collecting her thoughts and 
beginning to dictate]. " Essentially hysterical in 
a crisis, but does not pull a face before weeping, 
probably owing to advice from toilette specialist." 
Yes, full stop. 



[Curtain.] 



ACT III 

Scene. — Garden of the Reach Haslam's house in 
Palace Gardens. House front to the left. 
At the back, shrubberies and trees. In centre, 
an arbour or pergola, with the open side to 
the footlights. Under the shelter of this a 
table, with remains of a meal. 

Time. — Nea:t morning 4i a. m. Magnificent sun- 
rise. 

Cedric is sitti/ng at the table having finished eating. 
He is still in evening dress, and dishevelled. 
[Enter Charles through shrubberies from 
back. He wears the same costume as in previ- 
ous act, with hat, stick, etc.^ 

Cedric. Hello ? 

Charles. So you're here, are you.? 

Cedric [wiping his mouth~\. I am. 

Charles. Well, what's happened.'' 

Cedric. What do you mean? 

Charles. What do I mean? You and Flora, of 
course ! 

Cedric. Nothing more. 

Charles. Then is it off? 

Cedric {with a nervous laugh^. Right bang 
ofF! [Pause.] 

89 



90 THE HONEYMOON 

Charles, You look as if you'd been up all night. 

Cedric \_nods]. What time is it? My watch 
has stopped. 

Charles, About four. I'm a trifle late. \_Sits 
down to table,'] Well, my boy, I've got a bit of 
news for you. I don't know whether it'll influence 

you, but \_startled] , Look here, have you 

been eating my supper? 

Cedric, Was it for you? 

Charles, I must say this really is a bit too 
thick ! 

Cedric, How should I know it was for you? 

Charles, Of course you knew! 

Cedric, It was all laid here. The fact is, I 
went off^ to sleep. I must have slept solid for 
about four hours. When I woke up just now, I 
was as hungry as a dog, so I just — I never 
thought 

Charles, Never thought be damned I 

Cedric, Awfully sorry. Here's some bread. 
What's this news? 

Charles {^taking bread]. What's the good of 
being sorry? It was entirely on account of you 
I had no tea yesterday and no dinner either, and 
now I'm dashed if you haven't gone and eaten my 
supper tool 

Cedric, What's this news? 

Charles [eating]. If I hadn't had some sul- 
tana at the office I don't know what I should have 
done. I've a good mind not to tell you \ [Tak- 



ACT III 91 

ing paper from his pocket. 1 Here! This is a 
second edition, just off the machines [opening pa- 
per^ . Oh, curse ! Mind the ink ! [Looking at 
his hands, after giving paper to CedriCy mho ex- 
amines i#.] There you are! [indicating a para- 
graph in the paper, Cedric re ads ^ then risesJ\ 

Cedric [after reflection']. See here, boy. You 
just go to bed out of the way and don't ever let 
on that you've shown me this paper or even knew 
what there was in it. Do you hear? [Putting 
paper in his pocket.] 

Charles. I hear. But why? 

Cedric. Never mind why. 

Charles, But the newsagent will deliver the 
mater's copy here at eight o'clock, and by half- 
past eight you may bet everybody in the place 

Cedric, I'm going to do something long before 
eight o'clock. 

Charles, What are you going to do? 

Cedric. I'm going to see Flora, and tell her 
I've altered my view completely. If she knew 
I'd seen the paper she'd be bound to think I'd only 
come round because of that, and she wouldn't 
listen to me — don't you see, idiot? 

Charles, I see. But haven't you altered your 
view because of that? 

Cedric [coldly]. What's that got to do with 
you? The point is that at any rate I can go 
honeymooning now with a free mind. That's the 
point. 



*9g THE HONEYMOON 

Charles. And do you reckon all this'll be on the 
straight ? 

Cedric. I don't care whether it's on the straight 
or not. [Savagely.^ Pve got to have that 
woman — confound her ! and I'm going to. 

Charles. Where is she? 

Cedric. She's in the spare room next to the 
mater's. 

Charles. And how do you intend to get at her? 

Cedric. I'm going to call her, and ask her to 
dress and come down at once. Then I shall talk 
to her, here. With a bit of luck I may be off 
with her and on the way to Colchester at six o'clock. 
Is there plenty of petrol in the stable? 

Charles. Yes. I say — it's not right, you 
know! 

Cedric. Shut up. \^Going.'\ Did Fisher clean 
the car last night? 

Charles. How do I know? He ought to have 
done. I say 

Cedric [stopping'\. Well? 

Charles. I suppose you don't want any advice 
from me? 

Cedric. No. [Turns and stops again. '\ 
What? 

Charles. I was only going to say that you'd 
better change those clothes and make yourself 
look less of an absolute waster. 

Cedric. Well, of course ! I expect I can dress 
quicker than she can, can't I? I've thought of all 



ACT III 93 

that. l[He turns -finally to leave. Enter Flora 
from house, meeting him. She is fully dressed in 
morning street attire, and carries a handbag.^ 

Flora [staggered'\. Good Taorr\mg\ 

Cedric [staggered'\. Good morning! 

Charles. Hello, Flo ! What's the meaning of 
this? 

Flora. Couldn't sleep. 

Cedric [hastily and nervously^. I shall be 
down in two jiffs. [Aside to Charles.^ See you 
don't let her go. [Exit into house. ^ 

Flora. I guessed you'd be having your supper 
just about now. That's why I came down here. 

Charles [pleasedl^. That's fine. Only I'm not 
having my supper. Cedric's eaten it all. He's 
been out here all night, and he's eaten it all — 
except this [showing bread^. 

Flora. My poor boy 1 But here's a couple of 
bananas. Have you ever tried banana sand- 
wiches ? 

Charles. No, Are they any good? 

Flora. Are they any good! Never had a 
banana sandwich! Shall I make you some? 

Charles. I wish you would. [Silence, while 
she sets about sandwiches. '\ 

Flora. Well, how long shall I have to wait? 

Charles. Wait? 

Flora. To hear what happened to Mr. Framp- 
ington, of course. Did they take him in at Bow 
Street ? 



mi THE HONEYMOON 

Charles. Oh, jes. 

Flora. Do you know — I'm rather sorry. 
Somehow I should have liked him to get clear 
away. Here ! [^Gives him a sandwich, which he 
eats. Then solemnly. 1^ Now, Charlie, I'm going. 
I want to be gone before anybody's up. 

Charles. What occurred last night? 

Flora. Oh ! terrific scenes ! terrific scenes ! and 
I really can't face your mother this morning at 
breakfast. I couldn't do it. And it's quite un- 
necessary. So I'm going to the Great Western 
Hotel. I shall pretend I've arrived by a night 
train. And I want you to see that my trunks are 
brought there later. Herel [^Gives him another 
sandwich.^ 

Charles. All serene ! Thanks ! \_After thought.'] 
I say — / rather like Frampington, too. 

Flora. Why.? 

Charles. I don't know. It's due to him — 
somehow — I feel like you feel. ... I say, 
Flora, has it ever occurred to you that I'm a mere 
cipher in this house .^^ 

Flora. Really ? 

Charles. I'm nobody. I'm pitched about 
everywhere. 

Flora. You don't mean — my trunks ? 

Charles. Not a bit. Of course I don't. I 
mean the way they treat me. Here Cedric's a per- 
fect duke, in his own line. But will he have me on 
the works? Not much. Says I must strike out 



ACT III 96 

for myself, and all sorts of tommyrot. And In the 
end I'm set to night-work like a blooming nigger. 
People might think we were hard up for five quid a 
week, instead of simply rolling in coin — rolling in 
it ! Why shouldn't I go round the world or some- 
thing ! I'm only twenty-two. 

Flora, That all? 

Charles, I go out and work all night. Then I 
come home and discover Cedric couldn't find any- 
thing better to do than eat my supper. Five serv- 
ants in this house. But do you suppose there'd 
have been the least chance of me getting anything 
to eat before eight o'clock, at the earliest, if you 
hadn't invented these sandwiches? Not much! 
Thanks! [Takes two more.~\ But that's not 
what I meant. What I really meant was — who 
introduced my people to you? I did. I knew you 
at the Baths Club six months before his lordship 
Cedric and the mater kindly invited themselves to 
have tea with me there, and then I didn't count any 
more ! Cedric simply shovelled me up and 
chucked me into a corner. In less than twenty- 
four hours he was in love with you. But did he 
ask my permission? Did he think about me for 
one instant? Not much ! The fact is, they simply 
make use of me . . . and so — I rather like 
Frampington. Understand ? 

Flora. Yes. 

Charles. Of course, I'm sorry about what's 
happened — as far as you are concerned. But as 



96 THE HONEYMOON 

far as Cedric's concerned, I can't help thinking it 
serves him jolly well right. Cedric's too cocksure 
— in everything. 

Flora. That's quite true. 

Charles [hesitating^. Yes. 

Flora. What else have you got on your mind? 

Charles. Well, I don't know if I ought to tell 
you. 

Flora. Certainly you ought to tell me. 

Charles. You think so? 

Flora. Unless, of course, you agree with all the 
things your dear mother's been saying to me. 

Charles. It's about Klopstock. 

Flora. About Klopstock? 

Charles. He's had an accident. 

Flora. What? 

Charles. Broken his leg. 

Flora. How? Came down too quickly.'* 

Charles. No. Driving to his hotel last night 
his motor ran into a statue of Bismarck, and he 
was thrown out. 

Flora. Motor cars are really too dangerous. I 
wonder any aviator cares to trust himself to them. 

Charles [admiringly^. Now it's very funny. I 
often want to say things like that, only I can never 
think of them. Cedric — he can come out with 
them sometimes, and so can the dad. But you're 
the only woman I ever struck that could. 

Flora. Charlie, you're a dear. I suppose he'll 
be laid up for five or six weeks. 



ACT III 97 

Charles. Who? Klopstock? You bet. You 
see what it means ? 

Flora. Quite. What I don't see is why you 
should have hesitated to tell me about it. I sup- 
pose you've told Cedric? 

Charles. Yes. I brought an early copy of the 
paper with it in. 

Flora. Where is it? 

Charles. Cedric's cleared off with it. 

Flora. Well, if Cedric knows, why shouldn't I? 

Charles. Ask me another ! Look here, I'm giv- 
ing the show away, but I've got my conscience to 
think of. This is a serious matter. I mean — 
really serious ! I don't like it, but it's my duty to 
warn you. 

Flora. Well? 

Charles. Cedric told me I wasn't to say a word. 
He said I wasn't to let on that I'd told him. 

Flora. And did you promise? 

Charles. I should think I didn't. Not me ! 

Flora. Had Cedric been out here all night? 

Charles. Yes. Told me he slept like a top in 
that chair, then woke up and ate my supper. 

Flora. But why should he want you not to say 
anything about Klopstock? [Enter Cedric, in a 
lounge suit, somewhat awry, with a hat. Flora 
continues In the same tone to Charles.^ Here, have 
this last one [^offering him another sandwich. To 
Cedric~\. It appears you've been eating what 



98 THE HONEYMOON 

doesn't belong to you. So I've done my best with 
bananas and stale bread to fill the breach. 

Charles [nervous^. You've forgotten your hair, 
my boy. 

Cedr'ic [with a gesture; low to Charles^. Hook 
it! [He repeats the gesture. Exit Charles un- 
willingly, into house. ~\ 

Flora [primly^, I'm just going. I meant to 
leave before any of you were up. I thought that 
would be the wisest thing to do. But Charles 
begged me to stop and look after him a bit. 

Cedric. What's he been entertaining you with? 

Flora. Oh ! his grievances. They're rather 
real, you know, 

Cedric. Do you know, when I went in just now 
I was meaning to knock at your door and ask you 
to get up at once. Curious thing, that you should 
have been coming downstairs at that very moment ! 

Flora. Why this desire to begin the day so 
early ? 

Cedric. Look here. Flora, let's go, now ! 
Fisher won't be up, but the car's cleaned and 
there's plenty of petrol. Come on. Just you 
and I. 

Flora [innocently^ . Where .? 

Cedric. Colchester. I can wake the Bishop 
and tell him we want the job done at eight o'clock 
instead of twelve. Any old verger and char- 
woman will do for witnesses. The thing will be all 
over before the mater's out of bed. We can tele- 



ACT III 99 

phone to 'em from Colchester with the pleasing 
news. [Pause, As Flora says nothing, he con- 
tinues, rather less confidently.^ It'll give 'em an 
appetite for breakfast. 

Flora [ironic ally'\. Any other details? 

Cedric [with rough persuasiveness^. Come on! 

Flora [ironically~\. Then you've decided that 
we are to get married, after all? 

Cedric. Well, a marriage can't be broken off 
like — like this ! It's unthinkable. What would 
any unprejudiced outsider say, if he was asked? 
He'd say we were off our blooming heads. The 
thing simply won't bear examination. [Moves to- 
wards her^ . Come 

Flora, And I'm to be carried by storm ? . . . 
Great saving of argument ! 

Cedric, Now listen 

Flora, Well? 

Cedric. Will you talk man to man? Straight? 

Flora, As one honest Injun to another ! 

Cedric [picking up a dish off the tahle^. If 
you make one more joke, I'll smash every darned 
bit of crockery on this table. [Gesture of destruc- 
tion.'] 

Flora [coldly]. Now if I agree to listen quietly 
and talk reasonably, it mustn't be understood that 
I'm open to argument. [Sits dozem.] 

Cedric. All right, all right ! 

Flora, Because I'm not. I'm not. I'm not. 
The thing that's — that's really upset our apple- 



100 THE HONEYMOON 

cart may seem perfectly childish to the unpreju- 
diced outsider. But I don't propose to consult the 
unprejudiced outsider. Might as well take the 
case before a jury and engage a couple of K.C.'s. 
You know as well as I know that it isn't perfectly 
childish. It Isn't childish at all. It's fundamental. 
We've been unlucky. But then In another sense 
we've been lucky. We're free. We aren't tied, 
thank Heaven. Man to man, Cedric, it would be 
too much humiliation — yes, humiliation — for 
me to marry anybody that looks on marriage as 
you look on it. And as it's just as impossible 
for you to change your opinion as it is for me 
to change mine, we shan't exactly go down to 
Colchester this morning. . . . More's the 
pity. 

Cedric, Well, I have changed my opinion. So 
let's go. 

Flora, You've changed your opinion? How 
have you changed your opinion? 

Cedric. I've sat there all this blessed night 
thinking it over. 

Flora. Really ? 

Cedric, Yes. Do you suppose I could sleep 
any more than you could? What do you take me 
for? The more I thought it over, the more I saw 
I'd been mistaken. Now — half a minute 1 I 
can't honestly blame myself, you know. And so I 
won't pretend to — especially as we're talking 
straight. I told you what I felt, right out, and 



ACT III 101 

then I offered to give way. I couldn't do anything 
else. Well, you wouldn't have that. Mind you, I 
think you were quite right in refusing to let me 
give way against my better judgment. I admire 
you for that even more than I did. But I don't 
give way now against my j udgment — I give way 
with It. 

Flora. But how has your judgment altered .f* 
Why.? 

Cedr'ic, I don't know. How do people's judg- 
ments alter? I gradually saw the force of what 
you'd said. Of course a man's marriage must 
come in front of everything else ! Of course the 
idea of letting any business matter interfere with 
the honeymoon is monstrous ! I cannot imagine 
how it was I couldn't see that yesterday. The only 
explanation is that up to yesterday I'd never lived 
for anything except my job. Force of habit! 
One has to get a bit used to a new state of affairs. 
I suppose it was the sudden shock of the news that 
sent me a bit off the track. Look here, Flora, you 
don't want me to go on in this strain. You don't 
want me to grovel. I'm not the grovelling sort 
I was mistaken. 

Flora [in a new quiet tone~\, Cedric, what hap- 
pened in your mother's study after I went upstairs 
last night? 

Cedric, Nothing whatever. I cleared out in- 
stantly afterwards. I've been here ever since, and 
I haven't spoken to a soul except Charlie. Why? 



102 THE HONEYMOON 

Flora. Nothing. 

Cedric, But why do you say " Nothing " like 
that? 

Flora. Cedric, I was just wondering how this 
conversation of yours really did come about. It 
occurred to me that perhaps something might have 
happened — in business 

Cedric [nervous']. How — " something " — in 
business ? 

Flora. Something — I don't know — some- 
thing that would leave you free after all for a full 
month, so that in being converted you wouldn't 
have to sacrifice anything at all. 

Cedric, But how could anything have hap- 
pened ? 

Flora. I don't know, but with that telephone so 

handy in your mother's study All manner 

of things happen nowadays over the telephone — 
especially in the middle of the night. 

Cedric [relieved. Affecting a cheerful irony~\. 
What notions she does get into her head! My 
dear girl, nothing whatever has happened — so far 
as I know. Of course nothing could. My con- 
version, as you call it, is due simply and solely to 
my thinking things over. 

Flora, Honour bright.? 

Cedric [firmly]. Certainly! . . . Then 
you really imagined I was capable of such a — you 
couldn't trust me 

Flora. It isn't you I couldn't trust. It's the 



ACT III 103 

human nature in you that I had my doubts about. 
It's always so apt to get the better of people, and 
make them play tricks they'd never dream of by 
themselves. 

Cedr'ic {shocked but forgirnng']. Fluff! 

Flora [somewhat coldly^, I'm only being man 
to man. 

Cedr'ic, Look here, Flora, it's barely twelve 
hours since that vulgar idiot Klopstock shoved him- 
self into our honeymoon. Barely twelve hours. 
We were in love with each other up till then, 
weren't we.'' [Silence, '\ Weren't we .^^ 

Flora [primly^. Yes. 

Cedric. Very much? [Silence.'\ I say very 
much ? 

Flora [more primlyl. Yes. 

Cedric. Well, if you know as much about hu- 
man nature as you make out, you know perfectly 
well that we must still be very much in love with 
each other. I mean now, here! Anyone might 
think, to hear some of the talk that went on last 
night, and even to see us at this moment, that we 
didn't care twopence for each other. But a pas- 
sion won't be knocked on the head like that. You 
can't get over it — we're still damnably in love. 
We've had a row — good ! It's been an infernal 
nuisance — good ! I've been an ass, if you like 
— good ! And what then ? You're in love with a 
man who's been an ass — that's all. But you are 
in love with him. Moreover, he's ceased to be an 



104 THE HONEYMOON 

ass ! . . . Now, Flora, one ass is enough. 
Are you going to listen to reason or not?. 

Flora, But your mother 

Cedric [picking up a piece of crockery and dash- 
ing it violently to the ground; then, controlling 
himself, after a pause, in a low, tense voice^ . My 
mother be blowed! [A pause, Mr. and Mrs. 
Reach Haslam appear at the house-door. They 
show surprise at the spectacle of Flora and Cedric 
with an appealing undecided gesture.^ 

Flora [advancing to meet Cedric^. Cedric I 
[Flora suddenly perceives Mr. and Mrs. Reach 
Haslam and completely changes her attitude, going 
towards them.~\ 

Mrs. R. Haslam. Really 

Flora [lightly^. So we've all got up with the 
sparrows ! 

Mr. R. Haslam. No. These two particular 
sparrows have just come out for a breath of air 
before retiring to their nest for the day. 
[Yawns.^ 

Mrs. R. Haslam. Work is work, young lady, 
and insists on being done [with meaningly, what- 
ever else happens or does not happen. 

Flora. Ah ! The birthrate article — has the 
poor thing been declining all this time? 

Cedric [anxious for his parents to depart^. 
Mother, you ought to go to bed at once — you look 
absolutely exhausted. 

Mrs. R. Haslam. Is it surprising? I was just 



ACT III 105 

saying to your father that if this kind of thing was 
likely to occur often I should have to devise some 
way of procuring tea at sunrise. 

Flora, But do you want some tea? 

Mrs, R. Halsam, I never want what I can't 
have. I shall doubtless hold out till eight o'clock. 

Cedric, Couldn't the dad make you some? 

Mrs. R, Haslam, Impossible, child! At four 
o'clock in the morning! 

Mr, R, Haslam, The cook always locks up the 
kitchen to keep Cuthbert and Fisher out. 

Cedric. Seems odd that in a house like this you 
can't have a cup of tea whenever you happen to 
want it ! 

Mrs, R, Haslam \coldly resenting this criticism 
of her housekeeping^ . Father, shall we go ? 

Flora. May / give you some tea? 

Mrs, R, Haslam. It's very good of you to of- 
fer me tea in my own garden, but 

Flora [with great charm^. Not at all. [Open- 
ing her bag.~\ I have my Thermos. I filled it yes- 
terday before starting. You see, we had no 
programme, and I didn't know where we might ulti- 
mately be landed. Besides, I never travel without 
it. [She unscrews the Thermos flask and pours 
out the steaming tea into the patent cover. Then 
undoes a little packet containing sugar, ^ One 
lump, isn't it? [Handing the cup, with a spoon, 
to Mrs. Reach Haslam, who accepts if.] Sit down 
and drink it. I guessed about forty places where 



106 THE HONEYMOON 

I might pour that tea out — and they were all 
wrong! [Mrs. Reach Haslam discovers th<tt the 
tea is scalding.^ It is hot, isn't it? 

Mrs, R. Haslam [sipping^. I'm afraid you 
didn't sleep very well, Flora. 

Flora. Why? 

Mrs. R. Haslam. You're down so exceedingly 
early. 

Flora. The fact is, I could not get off to sleep. 

Mr. R. Haslam [half to himself^. I put a com- 
plete set of my wife's novels in each of the spare 
bedrooms only yesterday. [With a faint air of 
being puzzled. 'I 

Flora. Another cup? 

Mrs. R. Haslam. No, thanks. Excellent. 

Flora. I'm so glad I was here. You know, it's 
quite easy to have tea at any hour of the night. 
But of course, with all your other work, you can't 
be troubled with the little details of housekeeping. 

Mrs. R. Haslam [nettledl. My other work! 
No doubt when you're settled down with 
Cedric you will be able to show him what true 
housekeeping really is. 

Flora. Settled down with Cedric I 

Mrs. R. Haslam. My dear, I had intended to 
make no comment on the singular coincidence of 
you and Cedric being here in the garden at four in 
the morning. I did not mean to inquire into the 
significance of this broken crockery, nor of your 
attitude and tone to Cedric before you caught sight 



ACT III 107 

of me. But I am a trained observer. You may 
remember that last night 

Cedr'ic. Mater, why don't you go to bed? 

Mrs, R. Haslam. You may remember that last 
night I hinted that before very long you'd prob- 
ably be throwing yourself into Cedrlc's arms 
l^benevolentli/l. And I'm delighted to see that 
pride has not stood in your way. Delighted! 
How you got him down here into the garden I don't 
know, and it doesn't matter. \^Slight pause. '\ 

Flora \^to Cedric^, Anything to say? 

Cedric, You're quite wrong, mother. The fact 
is I've now come to the conclusion that Flora was 
perfectly right last night. 

Mrs, R, Haslam. About what? 

Cedric. In arguing that nothing ought to stand 
in the way of the honeymoon. And I've just been 
telling her so. 

Flora. But he forgot to tell me that there is 
nothing now to stand in the way of the honeymoon. 

Mrs. R. Haslam. What do you mean? 

Flora. Klopstock has broken his leg and can't 
move for at least six weeks. [^Startled move- 
ment by Cedric. Quietly gracious, to Cedric.^ 
Didn't you know? [Silence.^ Cedric, didn't you 
know? 

Cedric [with gruff reluct ance~\. Yes . . . 
of course, Charlie gave me away? 

Flora. Charlie merely told me, as he told you. 

Mrs. R, Haslam. Everything is all right, then. 



108 THE HONEYMOON 

Flora. Do you think so? Cedric and I were 
supposed to be talking like honest Injuns 

Mrs, R. Haslam. Honest Injuns? 

Flora, Well, as man to man, then. Anyway, 
straight! And yet he positively assured me that 
nothing had happened, to influence him except my 
arguments. Whereas the fact was he knew that 
owing to this broken leg he could go away with a 
perfectly easy conscience. My arguments hadn't 
influenced him at all. His principles haven't really 
changed at all! But now he's safe as regards 
Klopstock he doesn't care a fig for his principles. 
His mind is free for pleasure, now — it wasn't be- 
fore — and so in order to enj oy himself for a 
month he'd sacrifice any principles. Just like a 
man, that is ! And there's something else. He 
was so desperately and madly anxious to have me 
that he told another simply appalling cold-blooded 
fib. He said he had sat up all through the night 
thinking over my arguments, without a wink of 
sleep. I suppose he thought that would touch 
me. Now the truth is that he slept very well, and 
woke up with such an appetite that he ate the whole 
of Charlie's supper except two bananas. I won't 
mention his references to his mother. But I 
think I've said enough to show that I didn't come 
down at four o'clock in the morning precisely in 
order to throw myself into your son's arms. Can 
you imagine a woman silly enough to marry a man 
who on the very day of the wedding would try to 



ACT III 109 

deceive her as Cedric has tried to deceive me? 

Mrs, R, Haslam [majestic^. Father! We had 
better go. [She moves tozcards house. After re- 
flection, savagely to Flora, over her shoulder.^ I 
rejoice that the breach is now definite. [Exit into 
house, Cedric moodily goes up garden out of 
sight. '\ 

Mr. R. Haslam [protesting']. Hannah! [Half 
to himself, looking at his watch]. An inflammable 
hour — four o'clock ! 

Flora. We seem to be left alone together. 

Mr, R. Haslam [cheerfully]. Yes, but I must 

go- 
Flora. However do you manage to be always so 
calm and cheerful .? I've noticed you in the most 
difficult situations 

Mr, R, Haslam, You have . . . You see 
I've my own private life to fall back on. 

Flora [interested]. Have you? Where? I 
never 

Mr, R. Haslam [tappi/ng his forehead]. Here! 

Flora. I see. 

Mr. R. Haslam, And my collection^ — that al- 
ways keeps me amused. 

Flora, Your collection? 

Mr, R. Haslam, My collection of private opin- 
ions [tapping his head]. Here, too! 

Mrs. H, Haslam [off]. Father! 

Mr, R, Haslam [with cheerful acquiescence]. 
Yes, my dear. [To Flora,] Au re voir, I hope. 



110 THE HONEYMOON 

\^Ea:it into house. Vague noise of Cedric 'pri- 
vately cursing behind, out of sight. ^ 

Flora [going up a little~\. Cedric, when you've 
done swearing up there, I want to apologise to 
you. [Re-enter Cedric. They look at each 
other.'] 

Cedric. Apologise? 

Flora. My human nature ran away with me. 
My human nature couldn't resist the temptation to 
fulfil your prayer. You demanded that your 
mother should be blowed — and she has been. Un- 
fortunately it meant you being blowed, too. Now 
let's go. 

Cedric. Go where.? 

Flora [innocently]. To Colchester, of course. 
Isn't there a newspaper train about a quarter past 
five.'^ 

Cedric [shakvng his head in a maze]. I'm 
dashed if I know where I am 

Flora. I'm dashed if you are quite wide awake, 
my poor boy. Can't you see how amply you've 
proved that you look on marriage as seriously as 
any woman could desire — more seriously than any 
woman ought to desire. Last night you hesitated 
to sacrifice your aeroplane to me. But this morn- 
ing you tell the most frightful lies on the chance 
; of getting hold of me — although I gave you every 
encouragement to be truthful. You take the most 
frightful risks of being found out. You'll run 
any danger of trouble and unhappiness in the fu- 



ACT III 111 

ture if only you can capture me now. You smash 
crockery. You behave meanly, miserably. You 
forfeit even your own self-respect. Cedric, that 
is what I like. It's just that that shows how much 
in earnest you are. Your deeds are far superior 
to your arguments. . . . Cedric 

Cedric. What.? 

Flora. After all, your dear mother's prophecy 
was quite correct. I was just going to throw my- 
self into your arms — but of course I couldn't do 
it while she was there, could I.? [Picks up Ther- 
mos cup, to screw it on to the ftaslc, holding it at 
arm's length.^ Henceforth, sacred! [Cedric 
roughly seizes her and kisses her. After free- 
ing herself, as she puts the flask in the bag.^ It's 
a good thing I like them rough. 

Cedric. What.? 

Flora. A man — and his chin. 

Cedric [snatching at the bag and looking at his 
watch^. Let's go out by the garden. . . . 
Probably find a cab. Motor would make too much 
noise, and rouse the mater. She'll never get over 
this. 

Flora [calmly'\. Oh, yes, she will. We all 
shall. [St ops. ^ But my trunks, and yours? 

Cedric. I'll wire to Charlie from Liverpool 
Street to bring them down. . . . Confound 
him! 

[Curtain."] 



MAY 28 1912 



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